Friday night, we met for dinner
End of work-week ritual meant
To honor a freedom dwindling
unknown to us as we enjoyed
our evening in preparation
for indefinite remainders.
They arrived in a pair, through push–
doors into the new-city pub
Couldn’t believe my eyes, only
gawp as he arrived—veritable,
familiar and true . . . back they moved
shooting pool in view, a short stop
on Friday’s itinerary.
They never made it—Friday night
meetings lead to like encounters
As luck would have . . . or fate or chance
My old friends, our table instead
Life's Poetic Essence 
I love that word, ‘gawp’. Unfortunately it is seldomly used.
LikeLike