Treasure Island

Carolyn Ford Witt

(1943 / Indiana USA)

WORDS OF COMFORT


WORDS OF COMFORT

How do I talk of comfort
To my friend and comfort yield
When words are now like butterflies
Who've scattered across the field.

Then rise to a crescendo
Spreading magic over all
Covering up those comfort words
And to the ground they'd fall.

Now all those words of comfort
Are strewn to and fro
Leaving me with blankness,
No comfort do I know.

So silently, now, we sit there
With his hand clasped in mine
And even without those fleeting words
That Comfort...we can define.

Author: Carolyn Ford Witt
Ms. Caroline


© 2006 Ms. Caroline (All rights reserved)

Submitted: Tuesday, September 22, 2009
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