I had an interaction recently that inspired this story. I truly hope you enjoy reading what I have for offer today.
There once was a builder.
Of a strong fazique and softest hands.
The only thing that plagued her,
was that she had very few friends.
She loved the ones she had, and charished them so.
But when they’d be busy, to no one else could she ever go.
Then a poet came in to her village with a grand concept,
“I want a cottage with wide welcoming windows and elegant front steps.
The woman who had few friends was a dreamer as well,
so asked the poet, “exactly how she could help.”
“Build this cottage for me, though I have nothing to pay.”
The girl thought and said. “You could pay me in another way.”
The poet was intrigued, and then asked “how?”
If you’ll be my friend, I’ll work for you now.
With an agreement, the girl started her work.
She started getting the lay of the land, and building the foundation first.
The poet asked and asked, for things to be done right,
So the girl tried her best working late into the night.
Perfectly constructing, and doing everything the best,
She asked the poet what she should do next.
When all was done, constructed and dusted
The girl wanted to add one thing, so in the poet she trusted.
She asked her softly, if she could make a community space.
A gazeebo with chimes, so one might sit and meditate.
The poet said “No!” looking quite agast.
Said the girl was fighting for space, and never tried to ask.
So the girl left, with not a friend being made.
But was happier in the end, as she didn’t want that kind of friend anyway!
Her leather gloves were stained dark with blood,
with rips in the palms, and covered in mud.
So when the girl went home, she cleaned them well.
darned and mended them so no one could tell.