Tate Morgan > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

I grew weary of mans delight in watching his brothers endure I took no pleasure in gods sight his beauties had lost all allure

I enter this poem in recognition of the fine spirit we all know here as Bluessadmood,In him I see our best character OUR FINEST HOUR! Thank you

In her I saw myself one day a cold spirit needing tending And in her face I saw the way to happiness she was rending

Faith may be the timeless healer but lost time it cannot replace And all the calls for Gods mercy won’t give us back that youthful face

So each man will look back in time taking stock in the life he led To find if he is left wanting and for who and what he has bled

Through path and switch with company skipping along the winding road I pass food and accompany with he whom life seldom bestowed

Our days lit by constant sunshine strength in numbers was our design In hand me downs we ran through town with baseball bat and ball of twine

In a moment the lonely sound fell heavy on every mans ear As the truth echoed from the ground even the boldest shook to hear

Coming home from where I had been retracing steps from here to there Has brought my life full circle now bringing back the lessons I share

it is such a strange thing to be human