I have a friend who lives her life
On the other side of the world
We've neither spoken, touched, nor met,
And yet-

We have so much in common;
Each has nursed a child
We even share a form of name
Though hers is modern-style.
We write of things that touch us
Of walking in the rain
Of joys we find in simple things
And now and then, of pain.
Life's bloom can never be complete
Unless it's washed with tears
And love enriches life but always
Leaves it touched with fear
Yet would we have the stilly peace
That comes from placid hours
If we should have to barter
All the feelings that are ours?
I'd like to ask my friend of this
And other things she'd tell
We've lots of things to talk about
And poetry, as well-

I have a friend who lives her life
On the other side of the world
We've neither spoken, touched, nor met,
And yet-
And yet...