Saturday, March 17, 2012


I sit quietly with an empty cup that is waiting to be filled with your pain
I send my excuses to bed early and sit up late to rock your hurt until it can sleep
I stand ready with my needle threaded if you bring me what is torn
I listen for the slightest murmur from your side of the door
I watch for you to turn and look, my hands out to receive whatever is in your eyes
I hold my regret and remorse patiently and persistently, with no eye on the clock
I keep a seat in the garden with a soft pillow to lean against if ever you stop by
I wrap friendship in a package and place it in your path...and leave it there

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