Soft As A Morning Cloud Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt
Soft As A Morning Cloud
I whispered.
Afraid to be too loud.
Days go past and days go on
in ever widening discrepancies.
Prayers are thought and are said.
Words sent to God in endless plea.
Shadows call and manifest
as closing doors slam and shut.
The world spins as it has
for so many eventful years.
God wipes tears, I've heard,
and He calls everybody home.
I whispered,
soft as a morning cloud.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/19/2024 6:37:43 AM # 1.0.0.1119
