Like seasons that shift, your personality swayed,
Adapting to others, in different roles portrayed.
I should've noticed, too young to perceive,
Thought we were best friends, but I couldn't believe.
The bonds we form, they sometimes bend,
Yet true friends endure, through twists and a blend.
In the lessons learned, wisdom's path is paved,
In the changing seasons, friendships are saved.
YOU ARE READING
It's Still 12a.m.
PoetryAs the clock's final whisper embraced the dying day, darkness enveloped my room. Raindrops danced upon the fog-kissed windowpane. In the gentle glow of a dimmed lamp, I sat at my table, pen poised to capture the thoughts that flowed from the depths...
