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Biscuits

I am quite blessed
to be gifted with guests
who visit my life
my soul and take
me into their arms
as warm as biscuits
with sweet yellow butter
a bit of honey
and they say,
“you’re okay, girl,”
and they mean it
and I feel gentle again.

I shall die some death
some day and do so
knowing that I was loved
and listened to like
a shell
by those who put
their ear to me
and stayed to listen
through all of my storms.

I am blessed and grateful
and wish you
sunny pastries,
long beaches,
many skips to your stones
and consistent tides.

Friend

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