Skip to main content

The Friendship Question

                                                                

                                                                                                           
 I see a new face strolling in
And I ask myself- will she be my friend?
Will I be her friend, rather? I can answer the first
But only she can, the second. She sports fancy earrings,
Has a bracelet around her wrist, wears pink.
It may not exactly be my style, but that hasn't affected
The two questions. Sauntering in, she finds
A quiet corner for herself, and starts doodling.
I'm hardly a doodler. I'm in awe of that first one.
At a distance I can hardly decipher it
But I know good art when I see it. I inch
Closer, to spot a skull, a garland of red
And a lot of black. It's still beautiful
But I must admit, too ghastly for my taste.
Yet when I step away and watch her find
A quiet corner in the noise I loathe, I see
That she has found a blissful haven
In the tumult that could have enveloped her.
And the questions remain... 

I fish out a storybook,
Crane down, and begin to read. I spend five minutes
On a single page- my attention has spread itself thin.
Now my eyebrows herald a frown, but my ears
Are wide open. I hear her speak, and conceal 
A smile. She seems to be a free-speaker, while
I am a free thinker. Most of my conversations are 
With my books and myself. Yet, why I smile,
Is because her voice reminds me of a trepid note
Of music- rich with depth but ready to shake 
On disturbance. My questions remain rooted 
To their spots. I hear her speak to an old-time friend
I listen. A long conversation- but tempered with
Understanding. She knows sarcasm, humor, wit
Laying them thin like topping on the pizza 
That is her concern and care. Not a single
Demeaning word escapes her lips- 
No patronizing phrase wedges through her mind.
Her honesty finally delivers the answer that has been
Veering closer. I jump up, take long strides
And find the distance halved, as she approaches-
When I catch her eye, we both know the questions
And now know the answers. But I think it's only fit 
For me to ask- "Will you be my friend?"

                                                                                                                                                                       Image Courtesy: www.healthyplace.com/relationships/building-friendships

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

What the New Year Means to Me

 What does the new year mean to me? I don't know.  I think it just means that I can give myself another chance to try, fail, succeed.   I think it means that I can spend time with family, differently this time. I think it means that I can connect with people and with myself, in new ways.  I also think that it gives me a chance to see things with a different lens. The kaleidoscope becomes a periscope. I don't know what else. Every year, I put on a new pair of goggles. Every year, I grow, whether I try, or not. Some things may work as I had expected them to, some may not. But who knows?  I will allow myself to be Novak Djokovic in my arena, who hears his name when the crowd cheers for Nadal or Federer. I will allow myself to be Rafael Nadal, who always has a plan, no matter how bleak or bright things may seem, and sticks to it. I will allow myself to be Roger Federer, who glides in, serves, plays and walks out, all in grace and style. I will allow myself to b...

Nut and Shell

 Coconut Tender as a coconut. Hard as a coconut. Light as a coconut. Heavy as a coconut. I wish I was a coconut Today... A double-shelled, strange coconut. They call those people coconuts Whom they cannot understand, Like tapping on hard rock but not getting hurt- Like knocking against the hollow And shaking a bowl of jingling water That is cushioned by tender walls. Well, maybe people could be coconuts They could have hard shells and tender interiors, A hard crunch but a sweet essence- I would like to believe so. I want to know why I'm fascinated by the coconut. It can't be solely because of its duality. It can't be its beguiling double facedness. What is it, then? I feel like maybe a shaft of light A hollow for each hard tap- Tears through the hard door. An intriguing belt of  adventurous light Wriggles out from apparent darkness. Mystery, mystery. That's what it is. The mysterious coconut.  It has a shell But it has a soul- Shell protects soul, Soul preserves shell I...

My Imaginary Pen Pal

Ma Chére Amie Félicia, Bonjour! I wonder how long it's been since I last wrote to you. Time enough for the salutations to transform from English into French indeed!:)  How is old Bob keeping? Still nosing the kennel for those dollops of fondue? Ha Ha, I really won't be surprised. 'The Triple Imbecile!' #Mam'zelle Dupont. Give Scruff my greetings. Where's that collar I gifted him? Gnashed into bits? :( Or does Mickey wear it on her head now? :\ Send me a photo whichever one of the two.  :) Last week we learnt how to tell the time in French.  Pretty tedious for 11 o'clock, if you please. Pun intended. Knuckle-knocks not very frequent , thankfully. Neither are the thumb-fiddles. No question as regards the eye-droops- French is incapacitated to give me those! We're having fun galore learning French!:)  I miss your hot chocolat terribly. Something like the warm gust of the Niagara trickling into my throat. Yesterday when I was ...