Often old friends have some light, often they do not. When the eyelid opens, when it does not. On a hot river of correspondence, on a broken promise. This is a formal offer of acceptance. This is not. Often broken violins grow upward, often they do not. On every island and every beach, on a misplaced friendship. Often cowards raise their hands, often they do not. Often old friends have some darkness, often they do not.