Friends
By Brandon Millett
Friends are good.
I have none in my neighborhood.
I had a friend.
Then he was gone.
Right then that night, he had to fight.
Not like a fist fight, but a fight for his life.
I'm sure he tried, but he lost.
His life was done.
Then I thought about all the fun.
The snowball fight, the peanut butter fight in the closet, it was cool.
Then I had to say good bye.
And yes, it made me cry.
It made me sad and kind of mad.
Why him? Why my friend?
Dedicated to Aaron Samuel Archer
Excerpt from the letter that accompanied this poem: I'm glad to add my poem to the memories page. I'm in the sixth grade and I'll be 12 years old in May. I am happy that I joined the Boy Scout troop and got to know Aaron. I belong to the Ashland Boy Scout troop 179. The snowball and peanut butter fights both happened at Boy Scouts. The snowball fights always occurred because we got time outside before the meetings, and the peanut butter fight occurred because we were fooling around in the closet while cleaning for camporees when Aaron started throwing peanut butter with a plastic fork, all in fun of course.
