Friends

The English Countryside, 1768

Over the hills I nervously walk,Stumbling over the stumps, andAround the curves,To find my loveSo that we can talk.
I have a clueAs to the things she might say.She’ll be angry!She’ll be livid!You see, I was only supposed to beGone for a day.
But time passes quicklyWhen you’re with your friends –Working hard,Having fun,You don’t really want it to end.
So, I bought her a rose,And I’ll sing her a song,And I’ll hope and I’ll pray thatWe can somehow get along;
But, if the morning comesAnd I’m on my own once again,I know exactly where I’ll go:I’ll go be with my friends.
This poem © Kevin Walker. Published July 2012.