A morning's tale

Its early morning, pitch dark,
When the first ray of sun shines with a gleaming spark.

The very first bird, chirping so clear,
Like it is trying to pull me, near and near.

The very first drop of dew is reflecting the light,
Waving gently on its leaf, and yet placed so tight.

The very first wave of wind is brushing through my skin,
Like its bringing with it, the memory of someone akin.

The very first blooming flower is smelling so fragrant,
Its tossing with the breeze dancing all vagrant.

The very first thought now strikes through my mind,
Of none than that of a friend, who was always so kind.

A friend so simple, a friend so true,
A friend so real, a friend almost untrue.

A friend in merry, a friend in hay,
A friend in sorrow, a friend in dismay.

A friend, i feel, is a lot like me,
Yet a friend who is more happy, maybe, unlike me.

The smile on that face, the twinkle in those eyes,
Tells me they are true, without any lies.

The care in that heart, for a mortal soul like me,
Just feels so warm, and yet feels so free.

No threads to bound me, into gnarling twists of fate,
No questions to be answered, no storm to abate.

Its a notion of a friend, a memory restored,
Its a notion of a friend, like a blessing bestowed.

It was a thought to preserve, it was a morning to remember,
A friend to befriend, forever and forever.