Early this morning, I sat with her on a bench in Martinez Park, listening once more. She was depressed about her failures, uncertain as to what to do.
It dawned on me that I was gathering her feelings, her fears, like leaves and placing them in bags to protect her from falling again.
She reminds me of a light bulb that’s burnt out, yet needs replaced, so she can see her way in dark times. She opens up her thoughts, says she is always safe to cry around me.
I tell her she is my window I open to know life is fresh every day and finding strength to face pain is not always a summer breeze.
She is not aware, I suppose, that each time we talk, she gives me as much as I do her.
Her soul torn apart
I carry her in my heart
friends do that,
until the veil of pain
and so I shall remain
even when her sanity slips.