What happened to loyalty, to integrity — the time when a handshake meant something?

In today's world, it seems all but forgotten. I wrote the poem "Days of Past" after a business deal went south. A person who I thought was a friend was no more than a modern-day Al Capone. He stole my work and claimed it as his own. He removed every trace of me from the company we were about to form.

Lesson learned:

1. Most have no honor.
2. A handshake with most means absolutely nothing.

Days of Past

We stand by those we trust,
All the while they transgress against us.
Friend or foe to behold?
For only they will surely know.

Trust someone in this day and age
Is nothing more than a noble cliché.

Slanderous words of dishonesty,
Destroying your character with their brutality.
The world believes them as they lie,
Who can one trust in this earthly enterprise?

Longing for the days of old
When men were men, as good as gold.

I long for days where a handshake meant
Your word a bond, and honor felt.
Agreements made without paper convention;
Handshakes were the business transaction.

Honor flowed throughout the lands,
Everyone gave a helping hand.
A favor wasn’t done for return,
As a friend indeed was someone earned.

Days of past will not return
As immoral acts are loved and learned.
Handshakes, a thing of the past,
Your word, a thing that no longer lasts.

^{originally posted on walkinverse}

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