May Music, Day 6 – Best Friend

I saw my best friend at a bus station on the way to college for enrolment. We got on the same bus, each eyeing the other as if we had met before. When we both headed for the same place I made a point of speaking to her. I was 17 then. She has been and continues to be, a wonderful friend. The song I most associate with her is ‘Tapestry’ by Carole King. She too was a product of older siblings’ taste in music. And Nancy could sing this one beautifully. So, when Twindaddy asked which song we associated with our best friend, this one seemed perfect because that’s kind of what our life has been. I like to think that we all know that friendship.

 

We met before we met, I’m sure

you’ve met her,

checkpoint on the road I call my living.

Encountered once, you will

not forget her,

our threads are woven closely, stitched by giving.

 Like telepaths, we know when we are needed,

for friendship’s sake

we call and we are there.

One glimpse, one word was all it took

to feel it,

surprising meeting; starting with a stare.

 We must have known that time

would be a stranger,

in early days when talk was fast and true.

Chosen paths mean

frequency no longer

but still our hearts are bound and so pursue

 the knowing of the girl into the woman,

attributes

still held so very dear.

We met before we met, I’m sure

you’ve met her –

A friend of worth, inside, is always near.

 

 

 

Only This Second

Dreams unreal tomorrow holds,

No certainties, mere speculation.

Before us now today unfolds,

A brief tomorrow, in duration.

 

Only seconds, fleeting moments,

For use within our hands

To mould and shape, sweetly foment.

This at our command.

 

A vital second of each life,

Only one at just this instant.

Wasted, filled with endless strife?

Or rich with great intent?

 

What is right or wrong we glean.

Where do we want to be?

Have we slept another’s dream,

Their life, their fantasy?

 

Sustained effort, fortitude,

Decisions made, applied,

In such as this, portentous good,

Life is sanctified.

 

No mountain climbed for flag to post

Nor golden haloed wreath,

Fulfilment in what matters most,

Holding to belief.

 

Recognising small but wise,

All seconds clearly count,

They’re striven for, this amplifies

In worth by how they mount

 

In magnitude, their worth, their glory

Those moments every day

That build, arise like Taj, each story,

Monumental in their way.

 

A palace so, not vaulted tomb,

Royal beauty to behold.

Yarn chosen, woven upon each loom,

In all seconds, our stories told.