When I hear children and old men
speak of love a great tenderness
spills from somewhere inside
My eyes are little wells so
they sometimes overflow

I cry out to G-d
meanwhile he sharpens or smooths
the incongruities of my being
I ask Him who I am and
He looks in a mirror with me
I'm not sure what it means yet
But He was there
So it can only be good

© 2008 Jones Alexander