Holding hands at the kitchen table.

There will be troubled times.
Moments that define
your hearts knowledge
of itself.

Let your conscience find itself
wrapped in learned perception.
Let experience be shared
with those who need the words.

There will be sadness.
Tears that block your throat
and make you fearful of answers.

Let this face remind you
of shelter and warmth.
Let my heart bridge your heart
over the gap of these times.