When you lost your voice I tried to find it.
A selfish search, so you could sing to me.
Afraid, unaccustomed to the quiet,
I looked in vain for might hold the key.
Our cluttered correspondence from years past,
Culled reminiscent wisdom work had wrought;
Abiding sentiments of strength still last,
With more value than any present bought.
In the end, my worries were unfounded,
For yours is not a spirit to be low,
At the same time practical and grounded,
Soars high above while willing us to grow.
     But should you ever find it hard to cope,
     I’ll sing to you of faith and love and hope.

Written as a special Christmas present, but happily shared here.


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