Andrea

Twenty-nine years ago,
In northwestern PA,
A little girl was born,
Making the world a better place.

He name was Andrea Lauren,
With brown hair and big brown eyes,
She would become a kindred spirit,
With whom I’d share the lows and the highs.

After meeting in elementary school,
Our friendship quickly flourished,
Despite too much DQ ice cream cake,
We were never malnourished.

Remember all the trips to Erie?
When Weathervane jeans were in?
Too young to drive ourselves,
We only found rides through asking.

Your one pair had that random hole in it,
That nobody talked about,
Though it was fashioned by the blade of a scissors,
Which, when you saw it, made you shout.

From playing soccer together,
To exploring the benefits of horticulture,
We always had each other’s backs,
Protecting each other from any vultures.

Remember my mom driving us to school,
When Enrique was her favorite CD?
Back before we created our morning mixes,
So we had cool songs to sing?

Our precious Perkins corner booth,
Was like a second home,
We spent so many hours there talking,
Drinking coffee through early morn.

I’ll never forget the time,
When we missed school one time too many,
Mr. Drake called your dad,
Who’s pound on my door was hard and heavy.

I gave him my best performance,
Entitled: sicker than sick,
But your dad wasn’t born yesterday,
So he didn’t fall for the trick.

And I still laugh to this day,
When I hear “Brass Monkey” on the radio,
I’ll never forget the party,
Where it was the guest star and hero.

Fast forward many years,
And look down two different paths,
You’ll see a friendship spanning time,
That always managed to last.

Today, you have a different last name,
And a beautiful family,
Yet if I was ever in need,
You’d still find time for me.

You are a best friend,
A one-of-a-kind treasure,
And when I try to put it into words,
It’s hard to truly take measure.

I appreciate your loyalty,
And admire you for being so strong,
You have a humongous heart,
And manage to forgive those who do wrong.

It doesn’t matter if it’s been a week,
Or if it’s been a year,
We always pick up where we left off,
A true gift that is rare.

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