Writer, teacher, student, daughter,
introvert, lover, poet, scholar.
All these describe you, but in the end,
I’ll ask you only to be my Friend.
A person who shares my deepest sorrows
and comforts me with fresh tomorrows.
One to who, I too, can lend a hand
when the ground around you is sinking sand.
Your passions, above all, I beg that you reveal;
and every stir of your soul they make you feel.
Your worries, also, please always expose;
my duty as Friend is to lighten that load.
Times of madness, times of brilliance,
ideas, wishes, dreams, experience.
Heavens and hells, comings and goings,
I pray you have these to overflowing.
The hurts will happen; don’t quake, Dear Heart!
They arise to make you more stalwart.
Without anguish, we would never see the Light.
Without pain, blessings wouldn’t burn nearly as bright.
The delights of your life I hope are so many
they drown out the heartaches you have, if any.
The tears you shed, some will be sad,
but with my help, joyful ones even more will be had.
We two, so different, and yet just the same
walk paths unalike, play contrasting games.
Our lives go on, ever changing, but in the end,
I ask you only to stay my Friend.
Sparklebumpsthebookwhore 