Whimsy in the soil of us by Felina Silver – Copyright 2025

I reached for you — a quiet plea,
But your hand withdrew from mine.
I broke my bread with gentleness,
Yet still, you did not dine.

I poured my wine, a crimson grace,
You turned your face aside.
I asked if you would walk with me —
You said you’d rather hide.

You named your solitude a friend,
A comfort cold, but known.
Still, I bowed my head in silence,
And stood with you alone.

Though spurned, I did not walk away —
I placed my hand in yours.
I offered bread, I shared my cup,
To open unseen doors.

For somewhere in your guarded chest,
A softer beat may start.
And maybe, friendship’s gentle flame
Could thaw your wintered heart.

So do not bar the light from you,
Or lock the gates within.
Let kindness find its quiet way —
Let something true begin.

For friendship, when it’s pure and brave,
Can stand the tests of time.
It asks for faith — a little hope —
And dares the upward climb.

So keep your soul’s door slightly ajar,
Let in the smallest spark.
It only takes a single light
To brighten up the dark.