Like driftwood out at sea,
Friendship is, now I see.

We may start poles apart,
No friends there are at the start.

Catching wave and sometimes wake,
Destined to meet another log.

Through the waves and through their wake,
We shall mark the others bark.

In tandem for a while we row,
Never looking at the tides askance.

We never see the ripple grow,
In tandem soon we row no more.

All good things must end they say,
To new shores we drift again.

Someday, somewhere, once more,
Hoping the marks we left shall bond again.

– Raziel ©2012


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