By Theresa Brooke Blankenship
Date: 16 April 1998

no title

Isn't it a wee bit odd
Lighting up everyone's life but your own?
Isn't it just a teensy bit strange
Being loved by all and walking alone?

Everyone says "I'll be a friend"
And still none can understand my heart.
The few I've trusted entirely
Pain and sorrow brought our part.

And so I walk alone...

And then, as if by magic or and act of faith
My Saviour sends a Special One
Yet my heart hesitates.

Then the Special One reaches for my arm
And with his touch released my vulnerability
The eyes, the smile - all was there.
And I stared into a replication of me.

My friend, my companion, myself.