When The Hour Is NearA Poem by Jack CassidyOutside difficulties can be opportunities instead of misfortune...
When the hour is near,
and as rivers seem still, that's when the vileness gnashes. Its fangs rip and tear, but with silence you sit, while the pain pools at your feet. Retired from harsh work, the bones are light, strong, built from peaceful sleep. So reside with me today, delve into harming hearts, and fly like the dove.
© 2013 Jack CassidyFeatured Review
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