Xxxviii Poem by Elizabeth Rains Johnson

Here my friend is my gift to thee;
From within my palm shall spring eternal kinship.
Like the sweet song of the nightingale it is free.
You captured the very essence of our friendship.
And, set in its freedom of flight, we soar o'er the earth.
So, as in the hour of my greatest need
You gave unto me, heaping my hearth
With lasting embers of the joyous deed.
Filling me with fragrant life day after day;
My cup o'erflows, and emptiness is gone.
I have been starved when you fed my soul, and pray
I can return the same as we walk anon.
You asked naught in exchange, and to all I shall cry,
That the God of our Earth, shines through your eyes.