This world will always live with pain,
The Sun is now a little colder,
God will always hide his face in shame,
The frozen men will always laugh,
And forever God will be less than God.
Within her gentle smile and her trusting heart,
Was all the hope that this dark world could make,
A tender candle flame is put out.
A caged spirit is free.
The clashing dark clouds of grief are nothing,
For there is Joy knowing,
That this gentle child,
This Angel,
Has risen above this nothingness.
Perhaps in some far distant time,
When men hear Sandra's story,
And look into their souls,
Perhaps they will shed a tear
For the passing of tenderness,
And the death of beauty.
-
Author:
David Wakeling (
Offline) - Published: May 2nd, 2025 00:26
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 23
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Muse of Calliope
Offline)
Comments2
Beautifully worded the loss of a tender, beautiful soul makes the world a little poorer and the day a little darker. There was a sense of tenderness and warmth to this poem that left me sad as it ended. Any poem able to evoke such emotion has done its job. A fave
Thank you so much.She was a special person.Your comments are insightful
Can’t get over how it is common in all cultures to take advantage of whatever lends itself to such. But having said that might stray into other tributaries of discussion 🙏🏻🕊
Indeed well said.Thanks for commenting mi amigo
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