Waiting in the cold,
outside, sad, not bold.
Yearning for the comfort of friendship,
the quick hug and hold,
the joy of a child squeezing my hand.
Then the  gulf of sorrow shrinks,
fear drops back, though not far.
Sullen, waiting it's turn,
to crawl back,
and wallow in the ***** I leave.
Sort of guessed they may be there,
but, drained and sad, left.
Sick with doubt.
Shut out.
By myself.
I think they know.
I know they know,
and care,
and will always be there.
Tonight I can smile at my uselessness.
Like they do, and they get me through. X