A friends honest confession when ask... How do you see me?
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I see you as a piece of china, so fine!
One who has been asked to be on display.
I know a little about you, in time,
enough to know this causes you dismay.
I picture you sitting high on a pedestal;
afraid to move; for fear of falling,
You feel you're not above any at all
Inside a strong under current is calling
I see you as an insect trapped in a spiders web
There are no easy answers for you or anyone
Tread lightly leave hurtful things left unsaid
Move lightly your world can come undone
I see you hiding among your children
excusing your actions with them in mind
When your heart longs for a freedom
That your soul can't seem to find.
I see you as a mother bird protecting the nest,
As nature has it; one day the baby birds do fly
Who is to say or know what is to happen next.
So it will all fall into place as time goes by.
I see you as a delicate flower
Held in a palm of a hand
The hand's owner has the power
Of the direction where you’ll land.
I see you feather-like one day floating
Soft and wind -spent you will fly
destination unclear but strongly
calling leaving everyone wondering “why”?
I see you egg-like; fragile inside
With no one to truly understand
Wishing for a place to run and hide
Reaching desperately for a helping hand
We can not predict the outcome,
Nor, would I want that power
People will ask where it came from
In that decision-making hour.
You will not have all of the answers
Especially for those who are closest
Torn and tattered are many despairs
Hurt most are the one you hold dearest
The years are passing by too quickly
The beginning of it all is just a blur
You want every answer to come swiftly
settling for a ban-aid instead of a cure
You see, I see this all too clearly
for I have been there, my friend!
When any move hurts dearly,
Where a beginning means the end.
Note **** I see ME standing at a distance afraid to watch it all
The times ahead will be hard, constantly changing
I will be here for you if you choose to fly or to fall!
Our friendship is a completed circle; never ending