Friendship
It was just a sheet of paper out of an excersize book,
Until I started writing to see how it would look.
My pen wrote quickly as if with ghostly hand,
The poem that appeared was not so very grand.
It told not of love or of flowers so sweet,
Just about two people that by chance did happen to meet.
They spoke about their lives and the work that they did do,
It sounded rather commonplace like most chats, lively but true.
Families with children and the costs of living,
How they each celebrated at the last thanksgiving.
What presents they had bought for the wife and kids,
At the local auction where both had made their bids.
Then on to sport each had a favourite team,
They were kindred spirits each with their own dream.
A friendship developed between the unlikely pair,
They had so much in common yes each had a lot to share.
After making arrangements for their families to meet,
I very often see them as they walk down the street.
It was a true friendship I could see by the smiles,
You know for such a frienship, I would walk a hundred miles.
© Bernard Shaw
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