The evening’s mantle
Dense at first,
Becomes a light breeze.
It whispers a tale of
Steps taken and not taken,
Tears shed and not shed.
Prayers offered and promises broken,
Words spoken and not spoken.
Some meant to heal or hurt.
Timeworn angers, old sorrows,
Distant truths and desires
No longer heavy with passion,
Lie under an indifferent, forgetful dust.
And the heart suddenly knows
That it is time to smile.
Because only love is left.
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Author:
Dasim (
Offline) - Published: October 19th, 2020 10:03
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 39
- Users favorite of this poem: A Boy With Roses
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Comments2
Love is the strongest of emotions and will always be there.
Andy
wonderful flow, it reads like a refreshing stream paving its own path down a hill, smoothly traversing one line at a time,
good read
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