friendship poetry

somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale
but i cannot read you now
beside a stricken field
do the boys and girls still go
one sweetly solemn thought
passing through huddled and ugly walls
let me move slowly through the street
she heard the children playing in the sun
within my hand i hold
listen to the sounding sea
beneath the warrior's helm
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
when the hours of day are numbered