I made you something.
It’s a poem
To hang on your fridge
To remind you we’re friends.
I thought I was writing to hide my pain
Making fun of scrapes on scraps of paper,
A black ink ruse to salve my battered blue bruise,
Hoping no one would see the sad.
But then I noticed you were sad, too
(Smiles don’t hide pain from one who is looking for it)
And I put away my selfish
When I realized it was really for you.
Would you like to play on my playground of words?
Come ride a twisty slide of nounish nonsense
Spin merry on my rhyme-go-round
Swing on a string of silly sentences. Can I give you a push?
Squeeze your knees round my monkey bar trapeze
Laugh a little at alliterated adverbs
Totter on a teetering tale of onomatopoeic wit– or nitwit.
Run with a pun and for once we’ll have fun.
Collapse on grass in fits of laugh
And when laughter subsides, with tears in our eyes
I will catch you being you and
You will snatch a glimpse of true me.
Maybe you’ll flash a ray of sun smile.
Not the fakery traded in fine Sunday shinery
But the pearl in the oyster one–
The true smile of secret shared friendly.
You don’t have to know my hurts
And I don’t have to know yours;
We’ll face each other’s comfort next time
If pain remains unspoken.
The eye corners of my heart crinkle with wincing tiniest joy–
I confess my gift is for us both–
For writing this little escape from your mundane
Is the closest happy I may ever know.