Come sit for awhile, let’s chat
Of your days or nights, this or that,
I’ll listen, I’ll laugh if appropriate,
Or else empathize or commiserate.

I realize you see me as a pillar or post
And all your moorings I firmly host
I am constant, reliable, consistent
You keep coming back, I’m ever present.

But appearances can often deceive,
Hollow oaks aren’t as rare as you believe,
Nor are cracked pillars rare sights;
As their insides crawl with turgid termites

So certainly, come, sit down by my side,
Lean on me, brush all cares aside,
But every so often, do turn around,
Move closer, listen for that hollow sound.

April 17, 2006
Categories: Poetry . . Author: Prags

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