THE FLOOD

My heart flows forth like water,
Through my fingertips, out of my pen;
Everything that pours from me,
Still cries out for him.

My hands reach out to touch him,
When they reach out he is gone;
I've never felt so empty,
And never so alone.

A paper testimonial,
Of a sweet and much loved friend;
A monologue of loving words,
That never seems to end.

Every touch from calloused hands,
Every moment spent;
Standing in his tender arms,
So strong and Heaven sent.

Words that paint a picture,
No one else may care to see,
But yet they pour forth like a flood,
From deep inside of me.

Like springs of cool fresh water;
Like rivers running wild;
My words for him are endless,
Rolling mile after mile.

Just when it slows to a trickle,
The rain starts pouring down;
Then my heart is a torrent again,
And in my words I drown.

But in those cool fresh waters,
I still stand in his arms;
In those words on paper,
He keeps me safe from harm.

And in those cool fresh waters,
The healing will begin;
As my heart flows forth like water,
Through my fingertips, out of my pen.

Allison Chambers Coxsey
©1995