Truth slips up against my side
Silent in the dark
Creeps under the covers with me
And shares her secrets

In a chilly house, 4 a.m.
Exiled from my bed
We huddle in a chair, she and I
Truth, my cold comfort

Wooly socks guard our feet from cold
Blue quilt wraps around us
Too dark, too wet to see, but my ears
Hear her words so clear

Some will tell you that Truth
Is a bright, blinding,
Blazing flash of neon light —
They lie

For Truth and I are old friends
We’ve shared too many
Tear-ridden, midnight conversations
We know each other well

copyright © 1997 by Julia E. Benson

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