Will You Be My Friend? Poem by Richard D Remler

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He was a wee little thing,
A Sprittle,
A spot.
He could not fly very well,
Or juggle,
Or trot.
And yet, there he was,
Quiet as can be,
Enjoying the solitude
Of his own Shadow Tree,
Watching the world
Go by
On a lark
In the wonderful green
Of Farfarfield Park.

The Ickwidgets prodded along
And along,
Humming the words of an
Ickwidget song,
While the Panterboo stared
Far up into the sky,
Where that whisper of afternoon
Sailed gently by.

"He has a kind face, "
Young Sprittle could see
This odd little Panterboo
Plain as a tee.
And Sprittle,
He watched him
Look up and away,
And he smiled somewhat
In the light of the day,
"Can you fly. Really fly? "
He heard his voice say.
"Can you fly like the wick
Of a robin at play?
Can you fly very high,
Like the flutterby do?
I've heard that you can.
Is it true? Is it true? "

The Panterboo squinted
On down at the sound,
And then he peered over,
And up, and around.
"Is what truuuuue? "
He asked, in a voice
That drawled long,
Echoing out
Like the end of a song.
"Of course I can flyyyyy.
And why shouldn't I?
I can fly very well.
And I can fly very high."
And he adjusted his spectacles,
And peered at the small dot.
"Is that you, little speckle?
Why, you're as small as a tot.
You're less than the size
Of a schnootle of snot.
You're an its of a bitsy,
A fleck of a flake.
Exactly what are you
For heavenly sake? "

And Sprittle just shrugged
And hung low his head.
"Will you be my friend? "
Was all Sprittle said.
But the Panterboo frowned
In the heat of the day,
He calmly looked down,
And then gazed far away.
"I'm afraid I cannot, "
He said with a sigh.
"You're a tot, you're a dot.
Why should I try? "
And he took to the air
And sailed through the sky
From here up to there,
And higher than high.

Sprittle, he took
A deep breath, or two,
And his brow furrowed low,
As he kicked at his shoe.
And the dust willowed full
At the tip of his toe.
There seemed so very much
That he wanted to know.
"Can I fly to the top of the tree?
Like a Wyck?
I think that I might if I just
Knew the trick."
And he thought really hard
And his thinker went tink,
And his ears turned at least
Three full shades of pink.
His right wing was buzzling
As strong as a gnat,
But his left wing, it wouldn't have
Any of that.
And he obbled a bit,
Unsteadily here,
Where the Ickwidgets watched him
Turn pink,
Ear to ear.
And then he went pop,
And collapsed in the fray
Of the wee little thing
Who'd be walking today.

So he moseyed along
The thin bark of his tree,
Counting leaves,
First the one,
Then a two,
And a three.
He spotted a Walking Stick
Drinking some tea,
And idled somewhat closer
Simply to see.
"Are you a tree? "
Sprittle's eyes opened wide.
"I've never met one like you
In the whole countryside."
And Sprittle sat down
And gazed up in awe,
Simply amazed
At the creature he saw.
"Will you be my friend? '
He heard himself say.
"You'll be the first friend
That I've made all day."
But the Walking Stick
Tapped at his Walking Stick toe
And said, "Yes, yes, yes, maybe,
Perhaps, " and a, "no, "
"Why not? " Sprittle asked
His voice ever unsure,
When the Walking Stick said,
"You are far too obscure."
"What does that mean? "
Sprittle did not understand,
And he watched the strange bloke
Reach out his right hand,
Or his eye, or his elbow,
Or maybe his knee.
It was such an odd something
For Sprittle to see.
"It means you're annoying, "
He heard the Stick person say.
"You're not welcome here.
So move along, go away."
And he knew what that meant,
So Sprittle moved on,
Up the thick rooting
And into the sun.
And he felt utterly sad,
And so very alone.
He almost wished that he had
Never left home.
He almost wished that he'd stayed there,
All comfy in bed,
With nothing but daydreams
To dance through his head...

When he noticed a Podwokkin Peemerly peem
Every nittle and feather she wore,
And Sprittle's eyes beemed at the beauty he saw,
A something he'd not seen before.
"H...how d..do you do...? " he said shyly,
And turned but a soft shade of red,
When the Podwokkin Peem gently smiled his way,
And ever so quietly said,
"I do very well, thank you, child.
As well as I've ever done.
And I've only been here for a moment or two,
And I feel very old,
But I look very new.
How are you? "
And Sprittle, he smiled,
"I'm ok."
He didn't know quite
What to say.
But he managed a sparkle
Of joy in his eye,
When he said, "You're so beautiful.
Can you fly? "
"Well, well. I don't know. Haven't tried it."
The Podwokkin Peem sort of said.
"I have these fabulous wings,
And they're wonderful things.
They are blue, and they're pink,
And they're green, and they're red.
And they're light as a feather,
And just right for this weather.
Do you think I should try?
Do you think I can fly? "
And Sprittle, he nodded a very fine nod.
"I'll bet you're an angel." he sighed.
And the Podwokkin Peem smiled down at the lad,
And she grinned, just a tad,
"You are very wise for such a wee little thing.
You're like twenty Christmases
All tied up in string,
With sparkles and ribbons,
And rainbows and balloons.
Bright as the glow
Of a hundred moons! "
And Sprittle, he shied,
Just a touch, just a lot.
And he grinned an awful
Big grin for a dot.
"I'm just me, " he said simply.
"Just a speck on a tree."
But the Podwokkin Peem shook her
Podwokkin head.
She looked down at young Sprittle,
And so gently said,
"You're more than a speck on a tree,
Little One.
You're that laughter of morning
When night time is done.
You're the smile of life
That you see in the sky
Every time a new blue bird
Comes whistling by.
You are the grandest of hugs
When one's heart is so low,
They've forgotten the beauty
Of a Harvest Moon's glow.
You are the first song gently sung
On twilight's soft breeze,
Each time that it whispers itself
Through the trees.
Never think of yourself
As but a wee little dot.
For a wee little dot of a dot
You are not.
You are strong as an Oak,
And smart as a whittle.
And a good, honest bloke,
Quite a lot, and a little!
And you've made me smile, "
She said with a grin.
"Any Nukk would be lucky
To call you a friend."
And she stretched out her wings
With such delight,
They were full, they were wild and grand!
What a sight!
"Hop on, little one.
Just look at those lights.
It's a very blue sky.
I hope you love heights! "
And Sprittle climbed up
With his wide, open eyes
As that Podwokkin Peem
Boldly took to the skies,
To see just how far and how fast
The winds blew,
And she flew,
And she flew,
And they flew
Far into the blue...

And Sprittle breathed deeply
The blue of the day,
And he smiled a smile
Of someone at play.
His eyes shimmered bright
As the drop of a dew,
And he sailed through a sky
That was bluer than blue.
He peered up so high,
And much higher than that
Where the blue and the orange met
Rattittytatt
Right into a yellow
As bright as a grin,
And Sprittle, oh, he smiled
Softly within.
And he turned where he stood
Staring into the sky,
Without a fret, or a worry,
Nor wondering why.
For Sprittle felt warm,
And he was not at all sad.
Yes, Sprittle was even
A fair shade of glad.
A fine shade of spitspot,
A shimmer like new,
A shimmer the shine
Of the fresh morning dew.
And he whispered,
"I knew it. I knew it,
You are
That bright spot of light
Trailing after a star.
An angel, of course.
From your tip to your toe.
There isn't an anywhere
You cannot go."

The Podwokkin Peem
Gently rolled in her sky...
As morning and afternoon
Drifted on by.
And she turned
In the wind,
Through that strong
Scent of Spring,
And saw her the beauty
Of most everything.
"I never told you my name.
It is simple and fine.
It was given to me
By a parent of mine.
By a Mother or Father
That I used to know,
Before the long quiet came
And we hid from the snow.
Before the long night
Where we slept in a dream,
Remembering so many things
Yet to be seen.
And I was sooo young,
Oh, so very young then.
I was called Amityrose,
And I think it means Friend."

Sprittle, he smiled,
And breathed out a sigh-
He didn't care how,
Or whether, or why.
All that mattered right now
Was that Sprittle could fly
Through the stardust and morning song
Drifting on by.
He could touch every cloud
And hear every hello -
That danced through the
Dandelion seas far below.
But, deep inside, where it mattered,
He felt accepted, and warm.
As safe as a firefly
Dodging the storm.
And he grinned a smart grin,
As they sailed through the blue,
And thought, "Maybe, just maybe,
My name means
'Good Friend' too."


Copyright © MMXIII Richard D. Remler


**A Children's Tale**