A Friend Poem by Shokhy Rawat

Dressed in rags and old; scruffy baggy robe
Her arms as thin as twigs
She paces sometimes fast; at times slow
Her petite frame alluding to eternal youth
Yet her eyes hold the wisdom of old
born on the day, same as mine
she is as young and old as I
yet eternal verity remains-
she was there then; will be there when I rest
she was there before time itself
She is the last friend my dear
Death is my friend still farther than near