Philip's Footprints

The Gift of Someone Who Listens

Those of us who have travelled awhile
Along this path called grief
Need to stop and remember that mile,
The first mile of no relief.

It wasn't the person with answers,
Who told us the ways to deal.
It wasn't the one who talked and talked
That helped us start to heal.

Think of friends who quietly sat
And held our hands in theirs,
The ones who let us talk and talk
And hugged away our tears.

We need to always remember
That, more than the words we speak,
It's the gift of someone who listens
That most of us desperately seek.
Author: Nancy Myerholts

“storms”
by Margie DeMerell

There will be storms, child
There will be storms
And with each tempest
You will seem to stand alone
Against cruel winds

But with time, the rage and fury
Shall subside
And when the sky clears
You will find yourself
Clinging to someone
You would have never known
But for storms

I wish you gentle days and quiet nights.
I wish you memories to keep you strong.
I wish you time to smile and time for song. . . . .
And then I wish you friends to give you love,
When you are hurt and lost and life is blind,
I wish you friends and love and peace of mind.

Friends are like stars, you don't always see them, but you know they are always there