
Going back through my older writing, I’m still amazed by how the me of over ten years ago loved to rhyme. So below you’ll find an older poem, then an on-the-spot version with an adult’s attempt at rhyme. It’s a testament to how craft changes as you age.
A Friend in Need by 15-year-old Alexa
It may be a cover
To hide just your face
But what you are hiding
You could never trace
It stands in your heart
And rests in your soul
And with its desire
It can burn through a hole
Your digging your mountain
Against all your wills
You make no more wishes
And share no more thrills
You tell us you’re angry
Then don’t tell us why
You say “nothing’s wrong”
But you sit there and cry
We try to say things
That will soothe your weak heart
But our verbal connection
Is miles apart
Just don’t lie to me
And say “go away”
I’m not leaving your side
Because I promised I’d stay
Don’t try to get rid
Of a person who’s there
I’m trying to show you
I actually care
Can’t you just get
that I’m trying my best?
I leave you alone
So it can get off your chest
But if it won’t leave
I’ll be there when you call
When you have everything
Or nothing at all
Friend Needed by 27-year-old Alexa
I know you,
lost between freedom and obligation,
in the notes and strums of life
that hypnotize as much as hinder.
There you wander,
among dreamers of the same band,
your band mates, sheep,
amazed you still have dreams with lack of sleep,
since you spend most nights in a state of ponder.
It’s beyond me how you work in waking static,
your actions more erratic than calculated,
more free-form than trapped in rhythmic verse,
despite the lack of rest or repose so consistent with stable,
but I’ve told you time and time again,
if you are able,
to reach out, in waking or in dreaming,
when life feels more like nightmare sans the screaming,
you’ll find me here,
a lighthouse when your ship is nearing rocky shore.
I beg of you to tell me more,
to let me be the beacon before the sinking…
to know what you must be thinking,
guiding boat without a wheel.
But do you think of how I feel?
To be a beacon with no boat?
To wait patiently, light spinning like the hands of a clock:
Tick.
Tock.
I know you,
lost between selfishness and friendship,
hypnotized by Sirens,
into the depths of the sea.
But as long as you have me,
despite it all,
your lack of conversation,
lack of calls,
I’ll still be there.
A sheep.
A band mate.
A beacon—
light spinning in the dark.