My Sweet One, Andrea

It was ever your voice, always

That voice,

Soft and gentle, a trickle of freshness

In a dead place,

Soothing as the bag balm Mother

Smoothed on wounded calf legs.

That voice, your voice,

Without words,

even while speaking other words,

Always said to me

I won’t judge you,

I could even love you,

I see you, yes you.

YET

You seemed much to hide,

Holding your schedule askew

From others, which

I often wondered of, yet

Even standing nights before

Your door,

My heart found no Faith

That you lived in love of solitude.

For I, I lived hating my solitude,

A solitude of loneliness.

Thank you sweet Andrea,

For bringing me that saving voice,

For giving me your soft hand.

It felt so right in my hand.

I heard your stories with gratitude.

I see you Andrea, I do.

I see you.

I feel I could love you.

Let me try.