Out ‘bout a quarter mile sits a stand,
Of tangled bare and leafless trees,
Golden winter grass wrapped in a band,
Swaying ‘round a pond's cold breeze.
Frozen is its shallow tranquility,
Holding this moment in its grip,
I try to find my mislaid humility,
Before my resolve has chance to slip.
Guided by what... I’m not so sure,
But knowing it should (it must!) be me,
An act of love feeling so impure,
To unfold beneath these naked trees.
Played out a thousand times as I,
Make the trek thrice to the end,
Attempting to explain to frightened eyes,
In agony, trying to make amends.
On my knees, I pray for them now gone,
As tears fall, I look up to see falling snow,
And I weep beside our quiet frozen pond,
Done in love not hate, yet pain is all I know.
I leave disturbed earth beside the ice,
As I trudge back to the road,
Lost and empty is paid the price,
Violently peace has been bestowed.
As I drive back, my soul I explore,
To suffer through this all alone,
For those who were here, are no more,
To convince myself of compassion shown.
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