It begins with
one's unexpected turn,
When the second wants
to move to other side;
Both keep walking,
but silence looms large,
And the words slip
and get stuck in the throat.
One face wears the wrath,
and no chance of withering soon.
It stinks to the buddy
Who's never imagined
to smell such stench
In the wonderful house
of their friendship.
A bit limping,
a bit scowl, a bit regret,
He stops after a while
and his flummoxed  mind
Sets searching the way
of getting rid of
The companionship
that is no more a bridge
Where they'd stroll smilingly
in the sunshine.