She came to spend some time with me, on this hot and boring Sunday
She brought with her a bottle of wine and 2 glasses
She often tells me her stories
today I told her some of mine
I’d not told anyone those stories,
they were only mine to remember
finally who am I and what have I done.
was it the wine?
it was not the wine.
I was ready to tell her my story
I granted her the in sight to hear my story
not judge my story,
but just to listen
despite our differences of space and time
What is a friend but one to listen
someone you can trust with your stories.
Maybe some day I can tell my stories to you.