Fickle

In the garden of gestures, where friendships take root,

Some bloom in the sunlight, while others stay mute.

They gather around when the harvest is sweet,

But vanish like shadows, retreating on feet.

Their smiles wear a currency, traded for gain,

A ledger of kindness, where affection's arcane.

When the road is all roses, they sing you your praise,

But fade into silence when shadows invade.

Yet here in the stillness, I learn to discern,

The warmth that is genuine, the love that won't burn.

For true hearts are steady, come rain or come shine,

In their presence, I flourish, in their care, I align.

So I sift through the echoes, the chaff from the grain,

And cherish the bonds where the love’s not in vain.

In a world that is fickle, I’ll seek what is true,

For love that’s unconditional is a treasure for few.