A friend

 

She is the only one with whom I can be me

I think she is the one who comforts me free

It’s the phone call waiting to say hello 

It’s the only rare boring antique fellow

My virtue admires to be with it

And bounce the ball high with a hit

The bouncing ball when come off with

She’ll be ready to catch through it

It’s the real colour of my smart art

And the pencil to write creative tale’s part

It’s the monthly calendar having specific date

To express the sorrow and glare with regret

She is the only to find truth in my lie

Never give off to me rather if I die

It’s the rubber to erase dark of sort

She is my Parle G and crazy a lot.