Foundering Friendship

via pexels

A friend sane and sober,
Swimming a river with no banks,
I know of a good rower,
Oh, he hesitates and won’t take my thanks!

Wish I knew my faults,
In futile search of the bank,
I know of some halts,
But those are owned to rest my flank.

I see a distant angel,
Who’s the same rower,
A face familiar and appearance a gospel,
Ah, he’s anguished — refuses to be my rescuer.

Drowning seems to be the fate,
Sore in my lungs — mate please turn the sail,
Tears camouflaged, of flow nay abate,
Hope the rower sees; saves the drowning tale.

— 10th December, 2016

p.s: Oh Lord! Let the friendship flourish, not founder.