Dedicated to Katherine Young

Tell me when you hear a whisper of angels.

I promise you that we'll listen.

And when cold hands brush your face,

we'll wrap our arms about you, I swear.

We'll warm you with our words.

We'll hold your hand into the night.

And the tears? They will certainly dry (outside).

But inside will ache with arthritic heart-beats

as a dark gloom descends;

and in the darkness, candles will flicker.

Our songs will go on,

Our words will warm you.

Tell me you hear us; tell me you feel us.

And tell me when you know

that we love you dearly.

I promise.