Sunday, March 23, 2014


The sting of warning love cannot be natural,
when time does blunt the plenty of the heart,
and in the quartet of our senses we do find,
that rival, rude addition,  pain imparts.

The course of caring cannot be in certainty,
nor held in place within the grind of time,
for grief can blunt response and any feeling;
the job of soul to mend our broken mind.


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