My Friend

My friend lived in the Yellow Submarine

He’s friends with the Beatles you say

Not exactly except when a bug arrives to look me in the eye

The most curious thing it comes unexpectedly and then says bye

Unlike a child it is not seen but heard

Existing in the form of a transparent phenomenom

Sometimes appearing for meal times and bread crumbs

Like the Jesus parable the woman who had great faith

God answered her prayer it wasn’t erased

A special bud a suggestion is tenderly made

In the dew of the morning he treads not on a grass blade

Imperceptibly keen on connecting pictures and sayings

Pointed to the walls, clocks, and things so I smile from playing