I do not open easily,
not the parts the world can see.
Guarded walls, a heart unsure,
after storms that shook the core.
Gratitude has sat inside,
quiet, patient, never cried.
Vulnerability, a tongue I lack,
words tiptoe, then fall back.
But your lines came soft, then strong,
they pried the door I closed too long.
You did not push, you did not steer,
you wrote beside me, drew me near.
Tired, worn, I nearly fell,
ready to silence my own spell.
Then a light, gentle, steady, bright,
broke the shadow, pierced the night.
Enough to say my voice remains,
the pen still burns in my veins.
You struck the match, I felt the flame,
I hold it now, and call its name.
For patience, faith, the quiet gift,
for the steady light you chose to lift,
I am grateful, every bit,
for the spark you sparked, the light you lit.
Powerfully penned, CG. Another excellent write my friend. We all need to be reminded every now and then why it is we write, the light burns strong in your words. Nicely done. Appreciate you.
Damian
Thank you for your words. My dear friend has given me a new sense of me, writing is flowing. I’m so thankful for them.
hello lovely Curly this is so good dearest lady so tender I felt this about a fellow writer so beautiful ❤️
Thank you, Crimsin. I’m grateful it echoed something you’ve felt.