Softly, silent words of caring pass between
As golden dust upon a pauper’s brow,
Or seasons’ wealth on Gaea’s nurtured green;
We suffer not from speech, our needs are filled
By peace of presence, never more than touching
On a hope, a fading dream, a new reality –
Moist words too light for distance, feather-bent
Yet pressing heart to heart as flame to flame,
And drifting each as one to ‘plenished need
Unframed and unapproved; we shall love
Wholly, ‘fixed with longing children’s eyes,
Never falsely, naked past the flesh and burning
Only for the day, and never ruled, never lost to pledge,
But floating free, and sharing worlds in honest ecstacy.


April 1979 (as amended)
© Michael G Reid 1979-2011