1: 52 p.m.
Intense senses being alerted within my spirit,
knowing a friend is needing someone to talk to
and be there for him.
Grasping thoughts, putting them together, hoping
they will make a difference in his mind and heart.
There's always a chance that it will be permanent,
one can only hope that this will be the case each
time when talking with him.
Hoping this time he will be able to enter at least
one aspect of his life again with hope, because I
cared and waited for him.
1: 53 p.m. 3/27/14 RoseAnn V. Shawiak
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem