It Ain't the Last Time

This is an as-of-yet incomplete poem which I have been writing..... incomplete because I am unable to think of an appropriate ending ..... if some inspiration strikes you, please help me finish it ...........

There lived a pretty, old lady at the end of the lane,

Jack used to think her a little too vain,

And she wished Jack could just act his age,

40 years were time enough to get on the same page.

Jack was a bonfide crazy ass,

Mary had always been a cheerful lass,

and she just wished Jack could see the light,

get out of his stupor and learn to do what's right.

Both were friends from their teens to their twilight,

And whenever they spoke, it always ended in a fight;

But each saw through the other's furious mime,

coz It ain't the first time, It ain't the last time.

You can't really say they were the best of friends,

But they were always there for each other in the end.

He was her crutch when she had broken a leg,

She had dropped him home after his thirteenth peg.

Fate took her to places far and beyond,

while he stayed feeding the birds at the small pond;

Yet often it happened, while petting a meadowlark,

He found her standing at the other end of the park

Both were friends from their teens to their twilight,

And whenever they spoke, it always ended in a fight;

But each saw through the other's furious mime,

coz It ain't the first time, It ain't the last time.

What is that feeling which don't have a name,

You can't call it love, no....it ain't the same;

But they always felt the tug of an unspoken bond,

which brought them together, time and again, at the pond.