Best Friend

I learned, when I was very young, to be my own best friend.
If not, I'd never have dreamed my dreams - it taught me to always bend.

For reasons I didn't understand at the time, I just couldn't find the way
to be a part of groups, at school, day after day.

'Not understanding' was really a blessing, because I got to know me;
I dreamed of things I'd like to do and rejection really set me free.

To be the person I was inside, I didn't need another;
the golden rule was what I knew, taught by my dad and mother.

When things look bleak and lonely now, I remember from 'way back then,
and remind myself that nobody but me can be my very-own best friend.

Joan Adams Burchell
March 14, 2003


Miscellaneous Poetry