"He calls me a genius, and he actually means it!"
She calls me "empathic," and a "rare bird" at that!
It's all so confusing! When I'm only a misfit
Or so others call me, "the big scaredy-cat!"

Some people are's different as day is from night
But even these two share the same wondrous sky
So too we are different, and never in sight
Of one substance, two souls, without knowing why.

Each time these two meet they simply can't touch
The nearness is maddening, emotions will rush
In morning and evening their sky is too much
The witnessing clouds can do nothing but blush.

The gold in her heart speaks of soft-mirrored fall
The dream--she objects--is not where it starts
But still, she will listen to a heart-whispered call
As both find their haven in each other's hearts.

J. Sandy