Samual’s father leaned over and picked up a piece of paper off his desktop. “I see you’re still writing that poetry stuff. What does this one say?”

“Dad, leave it. I know you thought it was a waste of my time so—”

“Son, just because I didn’t understand your need doesn’t mean it was not important.” His dad stopped and started reading out loud.

Quiet Whispers

In the stillness of the night

Your quiet whispers roar,

In my heart the sorrows break

Then fall softly to the floor.

Each pristine shining needle

Feather floats to a dusty earth

Leaving room at last within

For pure joy and your immeasurable worth.

The bright glory of your face

Outshines all suns by far

blowing, your living breath crosses

 desert skies to light each and every star.

Cleansing, blowing, refreshing

Reaching across an unending universe

Moving down from highest heaven

destroying forever

man’s darkest, ancient curse.

“This is pretty good. You need to keep this up.”

Samual could not help but smile. “Only pretty good? Dad, you didn’t insist on coming to see me to read my poetry. So, what gives?”