My heart goes out to all the hurting here
To those without the necessary care
I'm warmed by all the love replacing fear
I'm joining the encouragement-repair
I never mind the darkness and the rain
It isn't that the changes are too steep
It's not that I'm afraid I'll die in pain
Nor money troubles keeping me from sleep
Accustomed as I am to time alone
It isn't that I can't fill empty days
But in this solitude I find I groan
How difficult to meet you in this phase?
My hands and heart are cracking. To my grief
I cannot share your days or bring relief
Welcome to the online picnic-spot for my sporadic writings and endless tea drinking.
In lieu of trying to belong to any number of societies: Chesterton, Sherlock Holmes, the Inklings, and so on: I propose and establish one of my own. Don your intelligence cap at the door; dust off your logic and imagination; did you bring your inspiration and encouragement? We are shapers, my friends; lit lamps; light-bringers. Bring quotes; poetry should be uplifting and thoughtful, or witty and clever, (or both). Humor is encouraged; laughter is invited back. Pull up a chair. Anyone for tea?
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2 comments:
May I share?
Of course!
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