Saturday, 12 January 2013

My oldest friend

Here's a poem I wrote for my friend Millena on her birthday. It's a little hokey, but I like it anyway. FYI, Hockerill was the school we stayed in for a weekend of intense rehearsals on the school play of Billy, where we first made friends. We bonded over the fact that we could both play 'Oh will you wash my dirty socks' on the piano.

Also - I know I'm meant to be moving my blog. I kinda started. But it confused me so I stopped. I'm working on it.

My oldest friend 

My oldest friendship is a boat
that glides through golden seas. 
We sail together, sharing secrets,
perfect you and perfect me.

We drift past faded memories 
of when we first were kin.
Washing dirty socks at Hockerill,
striking a pose in your kitchen.

We've docked a port at Whirl-y-gig
sparkling and star-eyed, we would roam.
On a mission, we'd dance til midnight,
when my dad would take us home.

Every Thursday night, our rowing boat
would cruise right to New York.
But we will never be on a break - 
this ship is too strong for that talk. 

Our boat beat storms in Bulgaria,
by conquering waves of wine. 
We've daydreamed around Greek islands 
and we've lost all track of time. 

Today our crew has new members: 
Rosch and Polly, Rachel and Jen.
We traverse the seas together,
plaiting hair and swapping men.

Our friend ship will sail forever
never creaking, never leaking. 
Our boat could sail up waterfalls
and never let the tide in. 

When we are old and rickety
our ship still won't let us get wet. 
We'll take an oar each for eternity
and row into the sunset.

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