Sometimes it's just being there,
that makes you, my old friend.
Someone who won't give up on me,
when I think I've reached the end. When I am sad and lonely,
and I don't know what to do.
You like me just the way I am,
and always pull me through. If I talk of all my secrets,
I know you'll never tell.
You always listen quietly,
my trust, you keep quite well. So I will try to do the same,
for you, my precious friend.
As you have always done for me,
on that, you can depend.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem