by Rick Kelley (c) 2011
And for nothing less than friendship’s good, he knows you’d do the same.
He’d not just walk but crawl a mile, or two, inside your tattered shoes,
And with no question bear the mangled cross that came not from his dues.
A friend will love a love so deep it’s memory but stings,
When that which once seemed cast in stone’s exchanged for lesser things.
For friendship dies not at the severance of the parting ways,
But slumbers deep within the broken heart through endless days.