Uncertain Friendship Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Rambling around, charging and retreating, afraid to approach
one another, afraid we might become friends.
Growing like the grass, steadily approaching maturity, being
mowed down by another's insecurity.
How long must we persist in childish endeavors?
When can we become the adults we are and talk to one another,
in order to bring this nonsense to a close?
Either walking in separate directions afterwards or becoming
fast friends.
When will the rambling stop so we may begin?