No particular place

No particular place was it at all,

Went the man, with the Southern drawl


Walking quickly, would be such a sin
If nowhere he went, then went back again


There has to be a place, to be going he thought
Perhaps to the grocery,  delicious taste could be bought


Maybe he was strolling, to meet an old friend
Yes! that was the purpose, of his  "back again"


So strolling he was going, quickening his pace
To see a warmer smile , from a friendlier face


To talk of rare times, between then and how
Remembering the " why", they were even friends now


Through trials and fights, and words you can't take back
Yes, that's where he was going, he was on the right track


First down one street , then he turned  on the other
Past yellow picket fences, through the gate of another


Up three short stairs, that raised  toward the door
Then without knocking, strolled he onto  that floor


He past through the kitchen , then  made a harder right
To where his  friend faithfully , had slept every night


He finally came to a stop, speaking with his Southern tenor
To the friend he was seeking, his friend in the mirror....