By Will
The child is separated once again from its parent,
He gazes up through tears of worry,
Will someone pick him up,
Or is his death imminent,
What will become of the boy,
Without mindful caring,
His worst fears play on the big screen,
While crystals become warm in the palms of two.
*Poem dedicated to Peter Wilkin
inPsychotherapy 
This is really lovely Wil, very thought provoking 🙂
Thanks Abi : )
Will ~ a beautiful poem, which I feel so utterly privileged to have dedicated to me ~ thank you so very much. Every word in your poem fell heavily into my soul ~ & I can sense the depth of your own emotions in relation to it. We already have a spiritual connection I’m sure you’ll agree … but whilst reading your words I lost all sense of otherness & became at one with you. So moving, so heartfelt … simply wonderful x
Peter, thanks so much for your comments. Seems we are going through something similar right now so this makes me glad that this poem touched you. This poem was not thought about, it seemed to write itself very quickly… : )