Digging

We had not met for many a year.
So we talked the live-long day:
People and places we had known,
Raising old friends, memories sharing.
But to no avail.

From morn till dusk I strove
Under the indifferent sky
To excavate a golden lad
That once we both had known
And then, perchance, to resurrect him.

Time’s tomb robbers, alas,
Their work had done too well.
There was but a casket, broken.
A leaden legend on its side
Which I could not, would not read.

That golden boy, you see, was me.