The wrought iron gate cold to my touch

This blustery day of random memories

I’ve reached an age forfeited overmuch

Of friends of things and meager worries 

Hinges groan  past need of oil

predictably at my passing through

On my walk age to despoil

This winter day of solitude

Friends and scenes march in array

Fetch smiles and chuckles to my heart 

Replaying scenes of boisterous days

Vibrant captains of commerce's art

Now long lost to death and time

They reside as films within my mind 

Evoked now as a song by Sondheim

Memorable scenes delightedly enshrined