"Hello, there's mail for you!"
I check my e-mail, oh what a lovely surprise.
A letter from my best friend though she's right here by my side...
I work on my assignments, I do this dilligently,
But a static noise seems to interrupt me.
"Cheyenna, come in."
and so begins the fake walkie-talkie converstaion.
On the weekends, from eachother we're away,
For more stories to hear, Monday I cant wait.
Stories about you being grounded,
and how awesome and "delishh" your cup of noodles sounded.
I know we're crazy and kinda on the frits,
but when we're adults, these will go on our SNL skits.
One preview to a skit about a kid named Jared,
he's not the brightest bulb but certainely not arid.
And when eachother we annoy our threats feel bolder,
for example, promises to give "sucha colda shoulda!"
and possibly injuring someone in an odd place,
like promises to pinkie flick you in the face.
Changing the rules on our scrabble game,
because normal rules are just plain lame.
And playing dots with highlighters that are poppin',
even though our teachers tell us to, were not stoppin'.
I know I can be a nervous wreck it seems,
but you add to my life, the comic relief.
This poem is for someone and not to be condemning.
This poem is for 1/2 of my best friends, Shayna Fleming.
So listen my friend,
Even to the end.
When an all nighter means not getting up to pee,
when all the names in our black books beside them have M.D,
when getting lucky means finding our cars in the parking lot,
when the candles cost more than the cake we bought,
Listen close, listen my friend,
you will be my best friend all the way to the end.
