their golden heads bowed down
with the weight of a late spring snow
I hear the ache in your voice;
a mother's sadness
a child's cry in the night
the soldier's loneliness
as he watches in the darkness
dreading every shadow --
when will this numbing coldness
dissipate; when will the soul
awake and bloom
without this palpable constriction?
No comments:
Post a Comment