Comfort Poem by Paddy J. P. Harris
Comfort
The cold rain does trickle down his back
And the dark night does seem so wet and grim,
Yet rest the weary traveller shall not lack,
For the warm glow of home does call him in.
And now he’s sat upon his favourite chair
With ale, supper and fire. His comforts found,
Dark night forgot with dreams of days so fair,
And then to slumber ‘til the morning sounds.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/24/2024 9:14:22 AM # 1.0.0.1119
