Moving Song

(written last year when we were about to move back from Bogotá)

When I move to each new place,
I already know every friend I make
will just be a facebook friend someday.
We might not Skype, although we may.

When I pack up my bags and go
I'll leave the ones I've come to know.
We'll say we'll see each other, oh,
but we both know it's rarely so.

There are friends and those I've friended.
There are friends and friendships ended.
Every hand that is extended
will one day wave goodbye.
There are times when closeness feeds us,
then there's space that comes between us.
I don't know quite what this means, just
that I'll have to try
to open up again,
to see change as a friend,
a friend I doubt I'll ever say goodbye to.
If I ever settle down,
I bet you'll still be moving around.
At least I'll have a place to invite you.

So if I'm slow to call you friend
I don't suggest you take offense.
My heart is full of untied ends
and space I keep for keeping friends.

Or if we meet after we part
I might not know quite how to start.
Small talk's an acquired art
and I'm scared to have a heart-to-heart.

There are friends and those I've friended.
There are friends and friendships ended.
Every hand that is extended
will one day wave goodbye.
There are times when closeness feeds us,
then there's space that comes between us.
I don't know quite what this means, just
that I'll have to try
to open up again,
to see change as a friend,
a friend I doubt I'll ever say goodbye to.
If I ever settle down,
I bet you'll still be moving around.
At least I'll have a place to invite you.

When I move to each new place,
I already know every friend I make
will just be a facebook friend someday.
We might not Skype, although we may.