Saturday, June 6, 2015


Thoughts jingle around the room,
as whir the windmills of fate.
Echoes of past often loom,
brighten the flicker of faith.
Hills beckon in the background
upon which set daily gaze.
Faces come, converse and crowd -
fit into his piece of maze.         
And we shed tears forlorn.
He not lonely, tho alone.

No comments: