speaks the night of breath and form
cold we turn to stone
in our dire hour left alone
no one to atone but ourselves
by this sigh I speak
of lost days and full ones
maudlim and melancholy I roam
sinister faith, teaches us to hope
honest reality, a madman approaches, to collect our soul
fortune has been kind and she has been bitter
the bits of collected feeling, were cast aside long ago
memories, I have not see in forever
gathered together asking me to explain
on my sacred tomes it shall be scribed
she died not in vain
vanity fair it is wisdom invested
to the lonely hearts that wander
seeking there other
a future appears and they cast their lots
moving ever forward








I’ve missed reading your introspective heart. Beautiful as always.
hello beautiful Betty I’ve missed you very much out of all the people I know I’m happy this poem spoke to you I hope you are doing well me I’m wandering ❤️thank you for being here…
Powerfully penned, Brenda. Excellent write as always my friend. Appreciate you.
Damian
thank you graciously dearest Damian for the love on this write ❤️