A friendship so young afford the time in the eyes of a groggy old terrapin
Is warm to the forgotten touch as a single candle on a cold winter's night
A comfortable brightness in the midst of dark, melts away lonely paraffin
Leaving the rinds of a once sweeter fruit, to wither from painful sight
But amidst such loss of loving feeling, a yellow flame sucks at its wick
Drawing up from the heated wax something so soft, something unbeknownsably new
To forget one's past, is to lose the vigor of today, and leave's tomorrow feeling sick
But to grow from one's history will take the bite from the present's wicked brew
I wish for a chance for the yellow to grow red, as red as a springtime rose
For dark emerald eyes, among the deepest beauty, to look among her common moors
Another chance, the second among tenfold of friendship and rhythmic prose
That Beauty will love the ugly duckling, and you will find my heart in yours
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