The Friend

Your company is welcome,
And bears with it the warmth of deep summer and longer hours,
The common words, no matter where from,
Or to whom said,
But I recall that you were a bit taller when the tree outside was younger, And every girl in the window was a new mother -
That you resounded rather than spoke -
The roses were fresh and white for you, like love,
And your pretty patience outdid the solemnity of solid stone,
Whilst boys and girls gallivanted around in circles,
At home alone,
And you expanded to accommodate,
One or two old companions, come from out-of-state,
Who recollected the thick taste of milk or the fine smoothness of seeds,
The greenness of spring, the jocundity of branches in the wind,
Waltzing in a gossamer fall of pale flowers,
Alighting upon the yellow dryness of weeds.

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