Morning came on broken dreams

Of  hope and things to come

Reality became my thoughts

As I woke with a rising sun.

 

The bitter taste of life’s despair

Still lingering upon my tongue

For once again.. I had given in..

To dreams that go unsung.

 

For how does one  heal a wounded soul

Left tattered from their past

When all they have is sorrow

With no covenant that will last.

 

But today may bring a spring of hope

With times own healing hand

To carry me through this journey

From a life on sinking sand.

-Antony King © 2018

 

despair

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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