Dearest Chummy {Scribbled Poetry}

You put a genuine smile on my lips

Whenever my sadness switch flips

You hug me by my shoulders and waist

Whenever I felt rainbows were put to waste

You eat your food in a manner so slow

The way I do to make the flavors flow

You treasure your books like bars of gold

The way I treat mine like memories that can never be sold

You write and dream stories from the heart

A passion both of us can never ever part

You love to delightfully munch on sweets

I do too only worse as I’m wired to sugary treats

You can draw and go artsy-craftsy

We vibrate on the same page as I doodle and go crafty

You were there from preschool to Uni

Sisters from different mothers that’s you and me

You’ll forever be my chummy

I swear for all of eternity

I wrote this poem last Friday out of lush excitement to once again celebrate my best friend's recent success at the recently concluded CPA licensure exam. I've been rattling my head for a gift idea and a memory hit me. Back in our elementary days, we had this thing about handmade cards, drawings and letters. I remember how awesome it was to have given and received those so I thought why not do it again, right? And what better way to do it than a poem! Unfortunately my printer died on me and I failed to have it printed so I decided I'd put it up here instead. Crappy printer, you always bug down when I need you most. Argh!

Anyway, dearest chummy Rea: I wish you all the best in your career. I know you'll do grand. You always have and always will. I'll be here when you need me most especially when you need someone to sip frappes slowly (and when I mean slowly I mean really slooooooowly). LOL! I love you to bits. Sleepover soon okay?

So my dear readers here's some random thought. Have you ever written a poem for someone? When was the last time you actually made a handwritten card/letter?

ABOUT "SCRIBBLED POETRY" I make up stories in my head. I'm a dreamer and sometimes perhaps a lunatic. Writing keeps me sane and while I'm no New York Times Best Seller (yet), I'd love to call myself an author. This blog serves as my digital manuscript. I've kept countless poems, stories and whimsical thoughts for years but never got to share them publicly for fear that people would steal them and take the credit. (Which someone already did by the way! If you're planning to do the same then scoot. I can track you down like a bloodhound.) But it would likewise be a pain to keep them for myself. I'd love for people to enjoy them as I did writing them. — Anne Macachor