Some friendships bloom.
They grow from common interests,
fed with love and communication,
watered with attention,
and warmed by the sun of mutual affection.
But some friendships wither
before they even begin.
Some roots can linger beneath the soil,
curling close, searching for somewhere to hold,
but not every root is meant to interweave.
Not every branch is meant to share the same sky.
Sometimes two trees can grow
beautifully side by side
without becoming one.
There can be shade without shelter.
There can be warmth without intimacy.
There can be a smile across the garden
without an invitation through the gate.
Because some gardens need fences.
Not every wall is built from rejection.
Some are built from wisdom;
an understanding that too much closeness
can disturb the process
of what needs room to be what it is.
So I may wave from across the field,
water what is mine,
and admire what is yours,
without reaching through the hedge
to pick your flowers.
It doesn’t mean I don’t see their beauty.
It means I know
where my garden ends.
And sometimes
the kindest thing two souls can do
is let the distance remain.