Friendship
A reflective poem about friendship, distance, busy lives, and the creative solitude that can make even the best intentions difficult to act upon.
Don’t take it personal because
I haven’t returned your call.
You know me well enough.
I’m sifting through my diary
Filled with plots and plans,
Besides Roget’s Thesaurus
I haven’t opened for years.
The last time we met at
The gin tasting event in
The plush city centre hotel,
You said you were busy
With work and travel.
I was pleased to see you, but
After fifteen minutes squirming,
You jumped from your stool
And hastily left, saying
You had to meet another.
Now
I’m quite stuck at this desk.
I rarely go out, overwhelmed
By a stack and swirling ideas.
These poems
Won’t write themselves.
When it’s conducive for both,
I’ll try and return your call.
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