This is an anonymous poem given to me by a friend. Perhaps it is no journalistic masterpiece but it tells a story.
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Around the corner I have a friend,
In this great city that has no end.
Yet days go by, and weeks rush on
and I never see my old friend's face,
for life is a swift and terrible race.
He knows I like him just as well
as in the days when I rang his bell.
and he rang mine, we were younger then,
and now we are busy, tired men.
Tired of playing a foolish game
tired of trying to make a name,
Tomorrow I say : I will call on Jim,
just to show I am thinking of him.
But tomorrow comes and tomorrow goes,
and the distance between us grows and grows,
around the corner - yet miles away,
"Here's a telegram sir, Jim died today."
And that's what we get and deserve in the end
around the corner a vanished friend.