I am much beholden to thee,

and my gratitude is boundless.

Thy silken arrows have winged their way unto my humble heart,

and through it pierced
with friendship's fond caress;

refreshing far more than dawn's first dew,

are the words of a comrade, true.

They are stars without silver,

yet set a-blaze Man's glory
with brightness which Man may, but scarce behold;

they are the gems
which fall from Heaven's unseen, ever-present hands,

whose radiant glister far surpasseth that of purest, precious gold.



Speak oft' to those
whose hearts to thee do speak,

and mark how words, upon the ear,

with feathered, jewelled caress,

do carve their path into the soul,

and never cease,

with silent shouts,

the listening, hearing, soul to bless.





Copyright 2004 by Quipster

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

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