The wrinkles on his face
whispered about the good times,
about his first love and his last,
all the late night calls and dinner dates.
They laughed about the tractor races
that left him in the mud
his calloused hands run slowly along his jaw
as a scar recalled a fight for respect
and how all he gained was a bloody towel.
A lesson on how friends always coincides with foolishness...
but they convinced him he didn't want it any other way.
His fingers danced across the lines in his arms
trying to remember the steps to a salsa
he once wooed the ladies with.
They gossiped with his cheeks about
face slaps and lip stick kisses,
never knowing which would come first
They teased about the arm wrestling match were he lost all of his money
and the high fives he always missed
they shared the story of the first time he shared a cigarette
and the pack he threw away
They spilled about the secrets he kept,
that even though he is laying on starched sheets
it will never take away from
the wrinkles on his face