Hostage Poem by Cleveland W. Gibson
Hostage
When I'm so alone,
I think of sweet home,
And crawl into my head.
Where there is no fear,
Yet I taste the salt tear,
Until the day I'm dead.
The bonds jerked tight,
There is no bright light,
Hunger cuts like a whip.
But my spirits thrill,
As forward I will
Pray with a swollen lip.
Oh! My God on high,
Show me, I sigh,
Hope on the last trip.
The end
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4/26/2024 11:27:21 AM # 1.0.0.1119
