Strange the days that pass like rain that flow through time
so swift.
The moments seem to reach for days but weeks I give like
gifts.
At times I find a panic stricken silence fill my mind,
As images of faces far away I reach to find.
Then in a sweet relief to my own soul, they reappear,
And small and simple comfort found, though you are still not
here.
The myriad of ends this book could read I push away.
It serves no end to ponder things my feeble hands can’t
change.
Forced I am to pray and leave to fickle fate’s cruel hands,
My life’s own book I offer, long to bend the bitter ends.
And if the love I feel may strength to fly ‘ore earth
possess.
It will bring you safe to me to know my love’s sweetest
caress.
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