by Nicole DeVriesOur friendship had a chance that spring
as we walked in the park and shared everything.
Two friends in the park comparing thoughts and life,
sharing ideas and problems, joys and strife.
By the time summer came, we knew each other well,
and there were few comfortable things left to tell.
So, we took the easy escape and became common babblers,
by quickly filling the space and talking about Others.
Always careless, often selfish, were our thoughtless remarks,
every word was soaked up by the hushed, empty park.
Fall came and changed colors, but our whispers stayed the same.
And so we walked, and so we talked, and so we bared every triumph and shame.
We looked forward, each walk, to hearing and sharing
what others were doing, saying and wearing.
It was good and securing to affirm our beliefs,
but the base satisfaction was shockingly brief.
Each word that tore down our view of friends
was like the harsh, bracing, tearing, autumn winds.
The trees became bare; colorless and empty,
just as our talks became predictable and airy.
By the time the winter drifts covered the trees' thick, coarse bark,
whatever had started this friendship had faded to dark
and we no longer walked and talked in the park.