On Friendship: Part IV

To Zend: A poem about our relationship

I had a friend

His name was Zend.

I told him to fend

for himself and thend

our friendship was rend

to a complete end.

To go back and mend

a letter I could send

but I'd have to bend

over backwards. That, I don't intend.

Oh Zend

Why didn't you contend

and dis-recommend

our end?

If only my penned

letter could extend

you my hend.

I depend

on you, Zend.

No more pretend.

Can I come over next weekend?

No? I am offend-

dend.