©2003 Susan Noyes Anderson, His Children, Vantage Point Press
Photograph ©2003 Anita Schiller
Sit down with me, and let us seek
a respite from the cold and bleak.
Lay down the bundles that you hold,
and listen to the words I speak.
No longer young, must we be old?
Have we no stories left untold?
Are there no dreams for us to dream?
Can we be neither brave, nor bold?
Men are not always as they seem;
they turn from ice to slush to steam.
Show me the sun that cannot rise,
the soul too wretched to redeem.
Show me the kindness in your eyes,
the love that sees beyond disguise.
Help me believe the sun will rise;
there is no truth in empty skies.