Friendship

  
You  are ten years old

and you discover another who

gets you.

You make each other giggle;

discover that it is okay to be wrong–

he won’t judge you.

When the anger bubbles up

thick and hot

what binds you is stronger than pride

or being right.

And there is the bliss of adventure

roaming the wilds

with minimal adult

intrusion.

You are happy

together.

Then falls

the end of summer camp and the “goodbye”

swallowing tears because

the feeling was like a thrilling new home

a place safe, that

friendship.

The parting gift:   a paper cup

with sandy soil and a broken stump

of cholla

that fascinating fuzzy cacti.

The plant looked dead, but the gift was given

with heart  and hope.

A treasure.

For the first year, the plant

withers.

And year two it seems more and more

dead.

But on the third year

new growth emerges and

new life.

Four years later

the cactus thrives

all bristling spine and

quill.

And you have faith in friendship,

still.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s