From The Age Of Knowing

10 Dec


From your vestiges of joyful ending,
may I borrow of this fonder tiding,
that my heart may hold its mending
for sorrow not yet wrought, abiding.

From your unburdened will denied,
may I hold your sated cry as mine,
that my unshed tears have but dried,
for this mourning of unwanted design.

From your withered hands, held dear,
may I take this weight of your lament,
that my grief, save but love’s last drear,
for her final kiss, my heart’s first advent.

From your learned soul, well resigned,
may I wash my own spirit of all past,
that my joy may no longer be confined,
for in this way, shall I be healed at last.

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Posted by on December 10, 2015 in My Poetry



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