Future Years Poem by Sharron Stephenson

To see the world through these eyes of ice and,
Tears.
To understand the numbered word of hate and soul,
Cradle the treasured call of love so true,
And pure.
The lightened anger of years and hours,
The framed picture of a beaten and broken heart,
The last time the hand stole the skin,
From a borderline pain.
The flame that flickers from the candle,
That shines as a reminder of life and memories,
Can be in future dreams