What Are Friends For? Really? Poem by RIC BASTASA

they are not goods, neither are they chattels,
neither are they investments something that you
sell, or buy, or make as a security for
an undertaking,
they are not taken for some schemes,
for some needs, like the need to be in
or just let the hours pass by, beating boredom
and fatigue,
they are not puppets where you pull them with
your strings from your fingers
neither are they muppets that you put
in your hands
they are not your tools like shovels and
pliers, neither are they your utensils for eating
like spoons and forks,
they are not the notes in your diary
or the dog ears in your book
or the things-to-be-done

they serve no ends, they are not measures,
when they come and you share your time with them
they make hours irrelevant
they make life livable, they make you belong to
a beautiful world where the birds are singing,
where the clouds drift, where the rivers flow,
where the skies are bluer than blue

they make the sun smile and they
make the moon speak and they make the
pond teem with fish

and foremost, as they all say,
they also tell you who you are.