My Imperfect Friend

I love him.
I wonder why, sometimes.

He’s got a lot of problems.
He can be pitifully sad
or outrageously cocky.
I don’t know whether
he’s brilliant… or pathetic.
He’s not sure either.
But I love him.

He talks a lot.
It’s his way
of finding his way.
He’ll lose me in a flurry
of new ideas.
But I listen.
There’s always something to learn.

He’s hardly the friend of my dreams.
He can be selfish,
wrapped so deep in his world
he doesn’t always see
how I need him to be.

He is… imperfect.

Imperfect.
That sums it up!
Trustworthy. But not always.
Kind. But not always.
Good. But not always.
Considerate, generous,
appreciative and grateful.
But not always.

How dreadfully unpredictable!
As his friend, who loves him so,
is there nothing I can expect
from him and not be disappointed?

Yes.

Imperfection.