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