A poem I had written a while ago for somebody who was dying.
The blazing glory,
Always rises;
The serpentining river,
Always flows;
Another baby emerges,
From an egg, so close.

After a tempest,
Shines a light from above,
Turning people's sorrows into love,
At the end of the tunnel,
A ray of hope, my dear.

Never let go of that thread of hope,
Hang in there,
The resplendent angels,
Are coming for you,
I don't want to see you,
Fading too soon...
Published: 10/30/2017
Reflections of the Mind...
Bouquets and Brickbats