My Good Friends (Frenemies) Poem by Teacher Kevin

Me and my good friends
We gather beneath the lantern of my tales,
their faces blooming like poppies in sudden sun—
petals wide, throats bright with laughter,
drinking the nectar of my words
as if they were honey poured only for them.

Still my friends,
When I turn away, the poppies close.
In the dark between gatherings,
their stems twist, thorns unsheathed,
whispering my name into the soil
where it rots into gossip and sour earth.

These good friends,
As stress coils around my ribs like wire;
I reach for help, palms open.
They arrive with bottles, amber rivers
that promise to loosen the knots—
a temporary anesthesia, generous, glittering,
gone by morning, leaving the wire tighter.

To my friends again,
I speak of land, of roots, of something solid
to stand on when the wind turns cruel.
At once they become bridges,
smiling merchants guiding me across
to a seller who shakes my hand
while their hidden margin swells
like a tick beneath the skin of the deal.

They are mirrors polished only on one side:
I see my reflection shining back,
warm and welcomed.
They see me clearly too—
a fountain to drink from,
a field to harvest in secret,
a story to spend
until the teller runs dry.

I tell you I have friends,
Whose faces blossom like rosses,
But have spines beneath petals.
They are sweet cactus fruits
With spines all over them.
Yes, they are green leafy nestles
Reach out to them for itchy sting!