Poetry

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Right it to my creator - prepared with soothing balm
To cover my mortal wound - in calm is gone.
As time addresses to face the entombed
Discerning time to pine the souls and release me

Untorn ‘till I touch home.

For now to write on clouded paper - as I recall
Touched indeed with tenderness - I’ve loved you all!
I petition my beloved family - undeservedly.
May you guide me gently - unto eternity

Through this rift, in turn to tomorrow’s lift
Will shift towards sorrow.

We’ll secure solace - a God given gift
I’ll waft up as a whiff to that golden city
While alarmingly the dependable pendulum solemnly swings.
Personally clasped in the warmth of hand to hand.

Safely guarded under glistening wings.
Pressing on to grasp the promise of a far better land.

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