True Friend

Wise old friend, sweet painter of insight, help me to see.
Allow me to learn under your tender shade.
Let me lie in your good friend, grass
And feel Earth, ageless and ancient, behind my back,
And run my velvet fingers through her cold sponged soil.
And let me smile, let me grin up at your leafy hands waving to me
Please let me sit with you, and listen to your song
The one you sing when wind flies in like an unexpected friend,
And summons your green fingers up in a chorus of whispers
Please watch me as I learn, and as I grow.
As I gain wisdom from every ant and every cast-off stone
And grow a larger soul and a larger heart, simply from
Gaining understanding from all and not just one.
And from you, for allowing me to let my face breathe fresh air
For allowing any mask that suffocated me to fall away.
Thank you, for letting me splash in the creek – freely
Letting a million marbles of winking water dive up into the air.
And for letting me play on your shoulders,
And run my hand over your calloused coffee-grain skin.
Watch me now, as I breathe in the scent of morning,
The fresh smell of new leaves and the perfume of birthing buds,
As I laugh with the calling birds and singing crickets,
And know that you have helped me.
Purely by just being there, for having your roots deep in the ground,
For always lending me a scratchy dark branch to hang onto,
And for tipping me a smile, always.
Thank you, my friend, for helping me
By being what a friend should be, someone who –
With their gentle laugh and open palms –
Sees me as I am.
And doesn’t mind