sometimes, the sadness

sometimes, the sadness steals away her heart. 
there's things inside her i don't, and can't, know: 
for though i love her, there's a separateness 
that closeness keeps, both precious and untouched. 

there are no words to cheer, no balm to heal: 
there's only presence: doing what we can 
and trusting that means something, in the end, 
since faith is what we have at hand to use. 

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