I had lost touch with comfort untilI met you; the sense returningto my fingertips.Holding you as if I hadn’t seen you in years,warm hands on

by. Philip G. Steverson Hour 1A boy followed a sign that leadhim to an uncharted garden of his opposite.A focused boy he was— until fragrancesand

You’ve been there through thick and thin.Releasing messages from the ink in my pen.Who are you, to which i depend?Who are you, if alive, I’d