John A. Hancock Poems

The ebbing tide of mistrust returns
Rising beneath the nightly stars
Slowly making its way to your heart
To reveal thy painful scars
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The winter wind outside howls a lonely song
The chimney plays a mournful sound
Snow flying in a frenzied fashion till
It lays peacefully upon the frozen ground
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Though the road may seem long and weary
And you believe you have lost the friends you knew
Or feel the heavy burden that you carry
Please do not despair, for our love will see this thru
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A trumpet sounds from the sky above
Calling to Heaven a kind and gentle soul
Who leaves us with many happy memories
Of his presense; truly he was a special man to know
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Thou art a sweet maiden with hair of fire
T'which burns a passion deep in thee
In your arms to quench that firery flame
Tis a place I hath longed each night to be
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In among the evergreens and beside the maple trees
Stands the old school house quiet and mysteriously
Its painted sides are chipped and worn
The windows are broken in
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She stood solemnly and majestically in front of the room
Grasping her rubber tipped pointer like a witch with a broom
Her voice crackled when she went to speak, demanding
Strict attention from them five days a week
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I watch the rain dance against my window
Nature's tear drops in perfect rhythm trickle down
Fitting company for a moment of quiet contemplation
The rolling thunder accenting a symphony of lonely sounds
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Her hair soft as feather down
And the eyes are liquid pools on which to dream
Her lips so sensual as a blooming rose
With delicate skin smooth like velvet cream
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The tallows burn whilst I muse
For my heart tis heavy upon this night
The silence to loud for me to hear
As I sit to ponder what to write
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