Friendship

Our friendship is a young and tender plant:It's not a tree to hang our dreams uponOr bear the weight of mortal mind's demands.It needs the light that we reflect from Soul;It needs the gentle nurture Love provides;It needs our patience: growth may not be swift,But we'll rejoice to see each leaf unfold,The stem grow strong, each tiny flower appear.And if it droops, we'll water it with loveAnd keep it firmly grounded in the truth.We'll stand it in the window of our lifeThat it may cheer the hearts of passers-by,And as it gently grows, its fragrance sweetWill bless ourselves and everyone we meet.

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Beating swords into plowshares
February 6, 1984
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