Grace Poem by Michael Brennan
Grace
When we get back from here,
tell me how it was,
the stretches of land we crossed,
the friends we made.
Wake me up with a smile
that erases all the wrongs,
that speaks nothing of forgiveness,
that sings a few broken tunes,
half-remembered and off key.
Wait for me on the other side,
where we can dance a last rhumba
and tell each other secrets
we always knew.
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4/25/2024 12:22:25 PM # 1.0.0.1119
