Ah, the friend; comrade of the lucky few

Who stays the steady, hardship to contend

And shares of hopes and dreams—a drink or two;

Companion at the ready to attend…

All forms of feasts and festivals at hand,

A sidekick in the pleasured acts of play,

To echo every boast that you might land,

And cheer each jest with laughter, lightly staid.

How rare the depths of thought assess such bonds

Or asks what ropes or threads so strongly bind?

The heart that bides in weather when its calm—

Yet in a storm, seems nowhere there to find.

Yea, though my mates will oft abscond in rain;

When sun arrives, I buy them back again.