Friendship

My white stick shows what I am.
With you I need neither white stick
Nor harnessed Labrador.
You are the little disc of light
Bobbing before me in the blackout.
In your musical low voice,
My fireside Scheherazade,
You weave me a thousand stories
Like the old Pathe Gazette when I was young
You are my Eyes and Ears of the World.
Your coming, like a chiming clock
Cuts into quarters
The pitiless length of Time.
Your hands are warm.