My pen hath dried, so I lock it away
And let it melt into the wooden drawer,
Like your image faded into the day.
I can remember tragedy no more.
Your laugh no longer lingers here on Earth.
Now Heav’n enfolds you in its golden love.
Though twenty mournful months have seized our mirth,
We shall be reunited there above.
The tears I felt I held no right to shed
Have spilt more times than I would care to count.
Remorse for all those words I left unsaid
Shall not, my peace in knowledge, e’er surmount.
After these twenty mournful months, once more,
I lift my pen and write of times of yore.
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.06 seconds at 9:26pm on Nov 16, 2024 via server WEBX1.