Written by Olivia Sun

Friendship can be like a tree.

Each friend being a flower,

Silently hanging on a branch.

Some grow old and withered,

While fresh, new ones sprout.

Some even may stay forever fresh and new

The relaxing, sweet scent,

Covering the smell of rotten, old flowers.

The fresh flowers are bright and colorful,

Their kind words radiating off themselves.

While the old flowers are brown,

Crumbling like a building during an earthquake when held.

Old friends easily blow away,

Then become forgotten...

But new, fresh ones hang on their branch.

Elegantly whirling with the western wind.

The friendship tree is special,

It thrives all years,

With blossoming flowers all over.