Tomodachi My Childhood Friend

I do so always cherish our sharing tea together my dearest tomodachi.
Ever since second grade and our awkward three line Japanese introduction.

With a most pacific wisdom you begin with the cherry blossom questions.
Then ease me downy featherlike towards their often rocky and jagged answers.

Quiet and untrembling you always speak in misty rainbowed truths.
Saying just what needs to be said, what I so need to hear but often resist.

Always accepting of who I am, you coax me silkily to my fullest origami unfolding.
Allowing me to embrace even my darker pieces seemingly from another puzzle box.

Funny how others seem to think I am alone as I now sit across from you and the empty chair.
As we both smile at their silly blindness to this blissful bond between a poet and his poetry.

So here we are again, reunited by blank paper and the black blinking cursor.
Wholly reconnected as I am head-to-toe wrapped up in your joyous love.

Now sitting closer, side by side we thus resume our most dear lifelong conversation.
Tearfully thankful for my first clumsy haiku when God finally chose to introduce us.