Hello Cheryl, You may remember this poem that I posted last year. It was one of those moments of iunspiration that just appear. I think that it compliments your poem well. Roger His promise (c) Roger Macdivitt 2009-04-10 Ink flows from my pen Like blood from his side My nib is sharp But not as sharp as the thorns My loneliness is real but fleeting His? Total separation The words on my lips transfer to paper On His, words, transported to The Father The lateness of the hour dims and stings my eyes His, closed and blind – rolling back inside his head A heavy day indeed No comparison I prepare for sleep He, prepares to die Tomorrow? I dream of good things to come His tomorrow? A promise kept Amen
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