Thoughts race like crowded New York City traffic.

So much congestion; nothing changes.

Ever.

Busy city lights compete to outshine one another.

Blinded by the Big Apple, drowned with its sights.

I find myself in a session of introspection.

Not a moment to release this pent-up emotion.

Trying and doing anything to release it.

Suddenly a stranger bumps into me.

In due time I realize this isn’t just some stranger,

But my long lost friend,

Poetry.

I could bear my emotions no more.

Upon hugging her I begin to see her getting blurry.

My eyes drowning in what once was and what now is.

She reminds me that everything will be okay.

Just the very line I needed to hear to keep moving forward.

Poetry is the friend that you don't think you need until you've meet her.

Poetry is the friend that no matter how far you may wonder,.

She is always finds her way back to you.

In the fruition of your season, to a bad harvest,

She stays grounded.

Poetry understands that

you get busy.

Poetry understands that

you forget to call.

Poetry understands that

true friends stay together no matter when times get rough.

Poetry is unlike any else.

And through her,

I’ve learned the value of true friendship on the soul.