FULL MOON ON TOP OF A CHAMPAGNE PALM'S TIP

it is a little bit ironic
we remember friends
write that we miss them
and soon we plan
meeting them again

before that
we remember our comforting
follies
those cheap drinks we
have afforded ourselves
lazy conversations
high ambitions
out of this world ideas
some secrets of the heart
chipping in
possibilities

the meeting realizes itself
we like to go back to the place
where we think
we have been too simple
innocent
wholesome
well integrated in that fabric
of friendship without
any vested selfish interest

after that night
guilt emerges like an actor
who failed to gain the applause
of a small audience

somehow we keep moving on
but we do not say that anymore
that place is that garden where
flowers are changed
where varieties have become
more like questions
rather than answers.