A friend

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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.


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About the Author: Nandini Tilekar


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