I never realised
but you were speaking to me, softly,
for all those years.
The shyness holding me back,
such constraints of my nativity,
were merely the mystery of your method,
the reason for my being.
And as the child began to learn
through the paucity of upbringing,
the ridicule of others
and the darkness of doubt,
finally he arrived
like a flower in its season:
His truth was always within,
nectar for those who may listen.
Copyright Francis 2020