A third grade class on the first day of school,
A piece of wide-ruled notebook paper,
A sharp Ticonderoga pencil,
A child’s sloppy writing,
A lopsided circle,
One question,
One answer,
“Yes.”

It was so ridiculously easy back then,
So trusting and honestly innocent,
The ingredients of friendship,
Before drama and gossip,
Everyone got along,
No one in clicks,
It was just,
Simple.

That is how we became best friends,
Through the simplest known way,
Just one innocent question,
And one honest answer,
Nothing in the way,
We grew closer,
We were,
BFFs.

Years later, we went where simple did not exist,
In high school, the ingredients had changed,
Words and circles no longer held power,
And our bond started to weaken,
We heard this would happen,
We refused to believe it,
But then we became,
Strangers.

Now there are just old letters, aging in a box,
Dusty trinkets that once held meaning,
Pictures of our young innocent grins,
All remnants of easy, simpler times,
The papers, words, and circles,
Make no difference now,
They are just,
Memories.