I really thought you a friend.
I thought you were spun by the gods.
A golden thread to help mend
My broken heart against all odds.
I really thought you a friend.
I see you glistening like gold,
And when I think you’ll extend
Your help, you are just so, so cold.
You are this thing they call hope.
You are supposed to be my friend
And help me to better cope
With my life right up to the end.
But I see you’re a false friend.
I realise this now I’m old.
You deceive me and pretend
To help me, but you’re a fool’s gold.
Hello Elia, Nicely expressed. I think we all have a false friend or two. They are the unlucky ones. Thank you and keep smiling
Great poem. Love the usage of short stanzas and syllables. I appreciate the effort you have made to get the rhyme and the rhyme patterns correctly. All round great poem, loved it.
I realized this I am old, beautiful. time is here, time is running out. Please read my new poems and comment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A fickle friend hope is. Nicely written poem!