For A Friend Poem by Ima Ryma

My best friend, Chubb, and I had spent
The day at the old fishing hole.
We both were feeling quite content,
Catching fish warmed body and soul.
Not far away, a warden spied.
Doing his rounds of license check,
He approached. It was run or hide.
Chubb was too fat - so what the heck?
I grabbed my stuff and took off fast.
The warden took off after me.
We ran a ways. I stopped at last,
And showed the slip for him to see.

'You've got a license - why'd you run? '
''Cause my buddy did not have one.'