Friends With You Friends With You Poem by Robert Edgar Burns

Some people have fruitful careers
And toil with sweat and blood.
Mine ended quick, I had no choice
For my body is a dud.

I sit in bed for days on end
Sleeping only an hour or two,
Then wake up rhyming words nonstop
It's all I'm able to do.

Each minute I suffer racked with pain
Just brings a minute more.
And so I keep on writing
Instead of crying inside these doors.

But then I send these writes along
To my family and my friends.
I wish the rhymes were once a week
But the words don't want to end.

So please forgive my frequent mail
If you'd rather I would stop.
Just send a note voicing this to me
For it sure would help a lot.

No hard feelings are left in me
If I bother you with this prose.
Rather than keep harassing you
I would really much rather know.

I will send this out to everyone,
And I hope to hear back soon.
Then I can take you off the list
But I'll still be friends with you.