Strange Faces

It seemed like yesterday we spoke on the phone.
Now, I stare at these pictures on the wall.
Filled with life, beauty, gall.

Familiar as they are, they are strange faces.
Distant memories from what was but a year ago.
And it seems to me our youth is running low.

A hole has formed within this canvas I tried to paint.
What has changed in these strange faces?
It's as if I'm just chasing time, changing paces.

I can't go back, and frankly I don't want to.
Still, I need to keep these memories of mine,
To show me how to leave the past behind.

Sometimes I feel like a vagrant,
That, in my hometown, I'll become the topic of awkward conversation.
All this work and I have yet to see compensation.

So now, I bear eyes upon them with out recoil.
Staring into past souls of those I have called, "Friend."
Days I pray that won't be forgotten, turned to just a trend.