Old friend,
Here is my hand.
Shall we lower our quarreling kites?
Old friend,
Come sit with me.
We'll alter their warring flights.
Old friend,
Smother our ill will
Before it all truly ignites.
Old friend,
We're both weary
So make this the last of our fights.
Old friend,
Let's surrender
And make ours one which reunites.
Old friend,
Now is the time
To lower our quarreling kites.
Let's no longer have them bicker -
Instead watch them jive and flicker
In the wake of swaying torch lights.
Old friend,
Join me again.
Come and watch the doves pierce fresh heights
On this most placid night of nights.

Jack Growden

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/old-friend-24/