Could you ever define,
Who exactly is your friend?
When I think of mine,
I think of many, but of no trend.
How do they come about?
Our friendships, do we intend?
Why then would we opt out?
Who wills a friendship to an end?
Could a friend be a loan,
A stern life's odd benign act?
Our own from the unknown,
Yet another vaguely grasped fact?
I do say my friends are,
As I say I am, with conviction;
I've from myself been afar,
Why'd friends be per my prediction?
I may have chosen to be aloof,
If they hadn't seen past what seemed;
Friends, above all, are proof,
Life can be better than we dreamed.
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