Bad Poetry

I found an old book of poetry that I'd handwritten in a journal a hundred years ago  (or so it seemed.)  It was in the basement in a cardboard box full of books that we moved from our old house almost 6 years ago.  I told you this was bad poetry...a Rod McKuen I will never be but boy did I try.  Here's one:

Good Friend

...Exchanging giggly secrets
        behind cupped hands,
   Knowing when you're blue.
   Always being there
   Remembering your birthday.

...Listening.

   Agreeing even though you disagree
         just to keep the peace.
   Understanding mood swings,
         private jokes and
   Temporary fits of temper.

    Realizing each other's faults,
          even joking about them.
    (But God help someone else who tries
          the same.)

    Good friend...defending your honor,
           your place in line,
    Your right to be.
     12-13-1983

I told you it was old!  And even though it's pretty bad as poetry goes most of it still rings true.  Aren't friends, especially good ones, the best thing since sliced bread!