Pottery

Are you my friend?

Are you my friend, my friend?
If so then please do reveal
Whether you feel as I feel
That it sometimes is all just a means to an end.

Isn’t true friendship as Platonic a notion as a perfect triangle?
So feeble, fickle and frivolous
Fed to minds ever so credulous
Who but then find themselves in a tangle

Why don’t you make friends and see you say
Write poems I cannot, but I do try
Make friends I dare not, for I may cry
At least I’m not so unhappy this way.

All the world’s a stage and we all are players
Making friends and forgetting them so fast
Today’s friends are tomorrow’s past
In our constant search for new foyers.

Where can I find a friend, where?
Who’ll my foolish notions upend
You might say that you’ll, my friend
But you’re not there when you’re not there.
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