Ode to Friendship – Richela Rosales


Two seeds buried
In loamy soil,
Sprouted together
And grew acquainted,
Mainly due to proximity,
But sometimes
The universe gets it right,
Sometimes we’re born
Near the people we need.

With our roots all tangled up,
We grew and flew away
Past oceans and mountains,
Away from the home
People figured was ours,
Because they didn’t recognize
Our independence;
We’re our own people
And we write our own stories.

Yet at the height the spring,
I turn my eyes in your direction,
Because we might be different flowers,
And we might have different stories,
But there’s no childhood scrapbook
Of memories where you’re not there,
Trick or treating on Halloween,
Laid in food induced pain on Thanksgiving,
Or ringing in the New Year with marshmallows.

Different for sure, but not indistinguishable,
Because we’ve seen darkness and fall outs,
Lived through nightmares and trauma,
Heard myths and fables of the way the world works,
And accepted absolutely none of it,
Because they can live in their own world
Of acres of self-proclaimed land
And pristine kitchens cleaned every night
After eating mashed potatoes made from scratch,
And we’ll live in ours full of adventures
They think only exist in storybooks,
Because we didn’t learn how to mourn
The lack of magic in our lives but instead
Learned how to create our own.

That’s why worlds and worlds away
I threw my head back in Navarra
And felt the mountain air rejuvenate me,
And you threw your head back in Colorado
And felt the mountain air call you home,
Because we’re not the same but years
Have passed and we still want the same things.

Whether our fingers are stained with chalk or ink,
We both have touched the sky, both literally and not,
And won’t accept the lie that we won’t do it again.

for more from this author at Chelarose, click here: https://richelarosales.wordpress.com/

Published by grumpygorman

I am a Social Worker by day and an artist/writer by night. I use the written word in an attempt to make sense of the secret worlds and dysfunctional dynamics that lurk beneath the facades of our daily interactions. I am not sure how my writing styles are characterized, nor am I overly concerned about it. I am immensely enthusiastic about music and often connect better with songs than I do people. I also have an intense appreciation for quality wines and whiskies, frequently consuming them in excess. I like things that smell good and struggle to manage the symptoms of a life-long relationship with depression. So, why "grumpygorman"? Spend some time here and find out...

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: