Monday 22nd August

The Meeting.

I met a man the other day

I expected to meet him

But he was not the man I thought

I knew; he was the same,

But a mirror image of himself.

All the insecurities, the doubts,

The still depth that underlies

The turbulent exterior.

There they were, in stark relief

And all that he was, surrounded

Me, and fitted, like a glove

On the hand of a frightened child.

God give me strength to hold close

To me that fragile accord;

The recognition of the reflection

Of the pain, and not to snap

The first few threads

Of friendship.

(C) CP Brooks 04/2003