I’m stuck in this wet tunnel.
Not a spot of light or a breath of fresh air.
I pick up the phone, and he’s standing right there.
His kind smile shedding light,
As I hold his little finger and walk out,
Now we are in the garden, under the shaded tree,
He leaves my hand and sits down beside me.
The fear strewn cheeks turn into smile,
Then follows laughter and the its care free for a while.
The tunnel all forgotten,
A distant memory.
What awaits is the person sitting beside me.
He is my friend, my philosopher and guide.
He gives me hope when there is none inside.
