Home Poem by Benedict Shinsange
Home
As the moonlight cloaks the dark earth,
As the clouds hovers when the wind blows,
As the twilight hangs low above the heavens,
I turn home.
As the wind dwindles and dies along the mountain,
As the song of psalms stand still,
I turn home,
Through blue shadows and purple woods,
To the place where I first loved.
As the Suns rays touches the wandering earth,
Home I turn to my beloved.
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4/26/2024 5:48:42 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Beautiful, touching. Excellent poem