Five a.m., In the peaceful ebb Of the dying night. Left alone, No longer the focus Of anxious looks. At peace, In my own space, I meet my God.
12/20/2010
Author's Note: The fourth poem in the sequence which I wrote about my father's death.
Posted on 12/20/2010Copyright © 2024 Stephen Ogden
A beautiful read, man.
I agree with Tracy - the anxious looks can be a huge burden. Alone with God is a good answer
