roslyn ross - small stones and other poems
Saturday, May 18, 2013
The curtains of denial had been so darkly drawn,
To neatly hide the truth of what had been,
And in the whispered grief of love forlorn,
There lay the broken pieces of my dream.
It was as if the shroud had fallen close,
To wrap remembered moments neatly tight,
And in the doing, let me know I chose,
To hide myself in sorrow’s bitter night.
There is a way of writing our life’s tale,
And choosing so to make it dark or bright,
For words will always have their solid way,
And build a structure bleak or ever-bright.
It’s in the way we look upon our days,
And how we see the things that we have known,
Which gives reality a sure and final say,
And lets us reap the harvest we have sown.
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