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