You did not proclaim solemn beliefs
Preach with big words
Or even give me sound advice
You did not look taller than me
But you lay on the ground
At my level, by my side, very close
Your arm rested on my chest
On my heavy heart
As a lifting power
Your breath caressed my cheek
As long as it took
To quiet my own breathing
poem from Here I sit, by Rene Fumoleau
contributed by Elli
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