In meadow green – Stands a wood tall of thorn
its branches twisted leafless of serene,
yet it only needs one strong arm
to set tortured souls a free.
Pray my love pray that stout be this limb
might I find my way back to you,
for it will bear the weight of every sin
this soul has thus -
Accrued.
© Charles Coakley Simpson 2009
No comments:
Post a Comment