To Alan IV
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The mountain stands with its ramparts high, 
Baring its heart to the clear, blue sky!
Eons it stands in its majesty,
Both man and beast its glory may see. 

The oceans roar, where does it start?
In the billowing surf, or the seashell's heart?
The wave begins from the waters vast,
Upon the rock its soul to cast.
 
Where stone meets water, nature contrives,
New shapes are formed as the forces strive,
Yet the steadfast shore is adamant still,
Through summer's heat and winter's chill.

How does a friendship last such a long time?
The savor remaining in the golden wine?
Two beings set with a common mind;
Their very lives they willfully bind.

Our lives do change, as do we,
And yet great friends we will always be,
E'en as the joy of the sunswept day,
For we would have it no other way.
 

William P. Green
25 December 1987
(c) 1987