|Not wrought with Misery, Abide —|
|Not wrought with Misery, Abide —
My truth lies deeper; simple,
Of Memory's provisions Here —
The Sun, my Heart, ne'er dampen
Bereaved at Heart; one tattered — torn
In agony, I fare
But, what — to welcome merry Days!
— A Pulse, a Ray; Love nears...
With Slight of eye, a dew drop Tear,
Courageous life — repents;
Reveal in Solace — solace in God,
And I, morose; content.
3 April 2007