We entered the world together—
two cries in the same hospital ward,
two sons of friends whose laughter
wove our lives into one thread.
School bells rang for us in chorus,
college gates opened side by side.
I carried books like lanterns,
he carried ventures like sparks.
I steadied his studies,
he lit his first fire with my coins.
I walked into glass towers,
a name on a salary slip.
He built his own kingdom,
his name blazing across headlines.
My car was modest,
his fleet roared like thunder.
My house was a shelter,
his mansion a palace of light.
Yet friendship held—
wives in warm conversation,
children tumbling together,
his wealth never shadowing his heart.
We never spoke of money,
only of days and dreams.
But his new circle was colder,
their eyes glazed with disdain.
We withdrew from their glittering halls,
preferring silence to scorn.
Then came the wedding—
an invitation heavy as a millstone,
a guest list glittering with power.
We carried two gold rings,
humble offerings among
cars, diamonds, villas,
gifts that gleamed like galaxies.
Shame pressed against my chest,
but he found me,
pulled me forward,
placed the rings in my trembling hands.
“Put them on,” he said,
“for you are the reason I stand here.”
His voice rose above the chandeliers,
telling of pocket money turned seed,
of friendship turned foundation,
of how I steadied his steps
when the world was still uncertain.
Tears blurred the lights,
but my heart grew lighter than air.
I left the hall not diminished,
but radiant—
a man remembered,
a friend cherished,
a gift eternal.
