Mornings bloom of blissful light,
Shines upon the eyes who see,
Blind without the will of sight,
Of all the love and memory.
Gift the poor who die in dirt,
And walk with painless longing hurt.
Share the food, share the joy,
To every person here employed.
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Author:
RSM (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 4th, 2026 05:07
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 2
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments1
A most beautiful poem of rhy8me well crafted and such a pleasure to read. Nicely done my friend and a fave
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