Solace

The comfort of another’s kindly glance

The solace of a writer”s l voice.

These may arrive as if    by chance.

To be responsive   is in part our  choice.

Some days our shell is closed,  and all rebuts.

Not even  loving arms   or lips are felt.

So little on this earth will bring comfort

Until  this hardness wants itself to melt.

Be wary as  it may not  yet be  time

Far better hide until right days are born.

To let our soul reject the dagger fine.

We  needs respect a fear of  ruinous scorn.

Though  isolated,lost, uncertain we  may feel,

These  dream wrought symbols make the soul to heal