True friends are like diamonds,
Precious and rare.
False friends are like leaves,
One holds fast through seasons of pain,
Evolving true under duress and distress.
Black coal needs the press and stress of life
To transform from the common to the rare.
The other falls down when the wind blows wild
Not understanding the shaking, they just slide.
Sticking not to the place where they once grew mild ,
They wither and fade away, not worth even a slight.
Mourn not the one who seeks to turn and run,
Que Sera Sera, whatever will be needs to be.
Hold fast the one who doesn’t jump the gun,
They stand closer through the thick and thin!