Poetry

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I thought maybe I would die,
During the best of my years;
As it made me want to cry,
And filling my eyes with tears.

A prisoner forever,
Within the world of the dead;
As my ties to God sever,
In the direction I tread.

My life was taken from me,
Because of where I had roam;
My eyes blinded could not see,
In finding my way back home.

My life was turning sour,
I was mourning like a dove;
Loosing spiritual power,
From His undying love.

But in His Words and deeds,
Made me healthy within;
Spreading the Divine seeds,
Choking the weeds of sin.

Richard Newton Sherrer

Copyright ©2007 Richard Newton Sherrer

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