There’s usually, in every group,
And often evident,
One person
who is not in charge,
But rather
the cement.
The one who
makes things happen
And who
brings all factions in,
Assuring that
each person’s there
And ready to
begin.
The one the
others turn to
When a
problem might arise.
Who knows
when someone’s out of line
And cuts her
down to size.
It isn’t
necessarily
The one with
all the brains,
But someone
with the people skills
To soothe
disparate strains.
Without this
member, groups would fade
In throes of
discontent,
For gatherings
won’t hold together
If there’s
no cement.
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