Plain Robe Poem by James McLain
Plain Robe
She squats, so lost, to gaunt
frail, the cost of weeping is
knowing, she will not fold you.
Into this robe it holds for you, is it.
In it's blindness, it stumbles in, her it
clutching her robe, her skirt, she looks,
as heaven opens, it is never old again.
The hope of the world, it's joy is worn,
between the seams, the counts, fulminates
insinuate,
thin threads your this, robe forever plain.
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5/15/2024 12:54:58 AM # 1.0.0.1119
