I entone gentle words that caress and woo.
I massage your brain and your feet;
and as you drift off from worldly view,
your relaxation’s peacefully complete.

Like blown sand in the desert;
like waves lapping the shore;
I’ll confess, I caress you best
where your soles, and soul, are sore.

It’s something I can do,
not something I must.
The question I have of you
is: Do I still have your trust?

For only then can my fingers erase
the worry and tension from your feet, hands, and face.