SPLIT FRIENDSHIP

In a gentler hour

Not needing to hide from light

I see truer colors

Some almost hurtful in

Their brilliance

And others whose shadings of subtlety

Are not visible

Behind tinted polarized glass.

Ah, dearest friend,

Though there are, gentle hours

When I see you

As clearly as you might wish

To be known,

It is also true

That these moments are too few

To permit a real friendship.

Your love of me is unique:

For you are my mother,

And needing you so to always be,

I most often see the woman that you are

In the shelter of a vision

Colored by your mother love

And polarized by the child in me.