Etched a figurine, taking dots and lines and curves

Xeroxed our desires weaving through the blurs

Poured life into the statuette and we found you

Except, who you are, we never really knew

Clarity came with disappointments and deepening rue

Truth be told, we only ever knew the figurine we sculpted of you

Fickle

Friends, like leaves

Inseparable from the branches it seems

Changes though, in a season's notice.

Keeping friends is not one of his specialties,

Loving them is not either, losing them is.

Every time he is touched by the breeze.

Shirleen Manzur is a PhD student at Simon Fraser University, British Columbia in the Department of Economics. She writes poems and fictions.