Untitled 3 Poem by Owen Suffolk
Untitled 3
Rating: ★2.8
Nothing seems changed; here's the oaken chair,
That every night I knelt beside,
As I whispered to God the simple prayer
I learned from my mother when I was her pride.
The old familiar things of then,
Unchanged, are beautiful still to the now;
But I am transformed in heart, and when
Will guilt ever cease to shadow my brow?
Thursday, January 1, 2004
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4/23/2024 10:37:02 PM # 1.0.0.1119
