Square Galaxy

About a year ago, I told you, you’re wrong
I even wrote it in a poem or a song
Now I repent, and say you were right
But I’ll never forget that starlit night.

In time thats pass, I’ve still called you friend
But never an email, I did send
Here is an idea–I hope I don’t miss
I’ll add you to my Christmas card list.

I never knew you were a writer
It makes me want to aspire higher
And sleep in ’till mornings end
To dream of the author’s pen.

Wondrous words never knew where
They floated along, without any care
Blind and mute, they were so naive,
Now the emotions, together they weave.

If I were to write a poem with one word,
some people would think the author absurd.
The word with friends might make a sentence,
Yet alone is the word, it doesn’t make sense.

So the wondrous words somehow found friends;
Even punctuation, they found at the ends.
They made apple pie and shared a good slice,
Because friends are found, when words are nice.

Incidental glance without recognition,
Mistakes made now haunt me,
Because the possibilities turn beginningless,
And the clouds would rain if they only had tears.

Insufficient capacity to do more than nothing,
So many ideas moving omnidirectionally,
Lightning in the distance might almost bring hope,
If only it had the deep friendship of thunder rolling.

Yellow picnic table flowed sweetness like fountains,
Now more stale than dust in an empty canteen,
Just the reflections of a fruit lemonade,
No more will the sparkles be lost in the winds of tomorrow.

If I were to search from coast to coast
I’d find one thing I’d like better than toast
It’s quite amazing; though I don’t mean to boast
Your friendship to me is what matters the most.