You were Harry’s imaginary friend
until Harry went to college
became Harold
and wouldn’t return your calls.
You tried to adopt another kid,
some Tom or Dick
to call your very own
but it didn’t work out.
You ended up lonely
without a pal to play with.

Down the line
you forgot your origin
but couldn’t help but haunt Harry’s old hood
never straying far from streets you two tread.
It was not a bad life
but it was not quite half a life
and you faded,
became vague
as Harold aged and grayed.

You didn’t know
your life was tied with his
or that you, wan, weathered,
weary, would be welcomed again
by your oldest friend eventually.
Harold, old, demented
needed you finally
and though you could not quite recognize him
you were pleased to at last have someone.
You were there for him
and you two trekked together
until the end.

It may not have been a good life
but it is what you had.
It was what you could get.
It is what you two shared.