Friendship is a wild flower

Grows at the strangest hour

Up through hard mountain rocks

And concrete city blocks

Or on a steep grassy hill

Off an antique window sill

Its roots are deep and strong

Its stem is lean and long

As time goes a field can grow

That can survive winds that blow

But if one flower grows with ire

It can spark a wild fire

And the field can be destroyed

Leaving nothing but a void