On my wall I tape the cards
Sent thoughtfully at Christmas time,
Or letters / emails printed out,
With lines of news, with lines of grief.
The people whom my path has crossed,
The people thought of, long ago,
Who made a difference in my life
Who eased my lonely heart somehow.
The people who have sculpted me;
They didn’t know it at the time.
They made a difference, then went on.
They changed my patterns, changing me.
Perhaps I do not see them now —
They’ve gone away, or I from them.
And, still, they are a part of me.
And I, perhaps, a part of them.
clarakatalin 
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