alone
there sits
a distant star
was not recalled before
e’en now
my weathered soul
another grieves

tho not by name
repeated
as the sunday plate
is passed
with prayers
for courage
whispered in the dark

where miseries
are not for much
regrets
I’ve heard them say
forsaken
as the want for
might have been
as fate decided
verse
by tender verse

kingdoms
we have lost anew
are scratched into the wood
become as proof
for every little
one

I thought
I might have known you how
surely now again –
lay your head
to listen
on my heart

. . .

Author’s Note: Those who know me (well) know that I sometimes write without
any real understanding of where the words are come. And yet, I do…… I ramble
and I listen.