​WHAT IT MEANS TO BE MY FRIEND (CRAZY STANZAS)

What does it mean to be my friend?
Is it the whispering rumouring 

Like naughty airs being tossed by blocking walls?

Or the sharing of secrets

Which are kept in our brainy books of memories?

Or even the taste of our handkerchiefs

At the sips of our overflowing eyes

In the heat of sadness?

What explanation does our codification of friendship give?


II

Shouldn’t it be stronger than hatred?

I know two close trees bump into each other often

Just as tongues battle teeth in chewing

Shouldn’t it be greater than distance?

Oh is this world not a bouncer of beings?

Today sits here as tomorrow moves there

Shouldn’t it be greater than silence?

Even wits rest when the dawn of thoughts fall

When a mouth closes in thoughts, can’t the other call?

Shouldn’t it be greater than intuition?

Oh human fallibilities tap from our abilities

What greater cause is there than clarity?

Shouldn’t it be greater than rumours?

Those smokes which spark forest fires are not always from the hunter’s match!

Shouldn’t it be greater than wealth?

Money is blood but blood alone makes no being!

Shouldn’t it be greater than darkness?

Hands are there to feed minds

When darkness falls upon eyes’ light

To fix the severed or join good threads

Shouldn’t it be greater than jealousy?

Hearts are fickle and yearning can clash

In the heat of pain can we dwell on sanes?

What does it mean to be my friend?


III

Read my thoughts in the memories we shared

Fix my void with the delights which clothed our minds

Run me a chore with the past which was meant to last

This trolley of life knows no stops

So why burn the ages rooted in the archives of our history?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©September 25, 2017

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