It's Getting So Dark, Yet There's Still A Frail Light Poem by DM W
It's Getting So Dark, Yet There's Still A Frail Light
Although I hear the rumbling of thunder,
And the moans of solemn winds approaching,
I still have hope in life's little, bright things.
Although power still works vertically,
And Freedom's fresh flowers are often crushed,
I do not look to cold, stone monuments to
Provide grand, authoritative answers.
I still believe in small, silent prayers.
Friday, October 11, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: freedom
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1/20/2026 3:29:41 AM # 1.0.0
