You give money to homeless, 

your soul is moved by sad and poor, 

waiting for a bit of kindness

you peek through the cracks of sore,

that unkind words have caused before. 

Language you use is warm and respectful, 

never rude and never untrue.

Like you would realize each carries a burden,

that becomes lighter when talking to you. 

Your gentle hands slip through my body, 

hands that heal, help and make peace, 

every inch you touch feels honored

and I enjoy in your arms, feeling a breeze - 

of true love.