Sometimes In The Mist Of Defeat Poem by Brett White

Sometimes in the Mist of Defeat,
When our heads are hung, teary-eye'd -
And it seems all of thy dreams've dried
In ev'ry Shade ere they're complete.
And that pale Mosaic doth surround
Thee head-to-toe, its Grey-Black glow,
Is all for so long thou dids't know;
Thoughts compound: 'twere better underground,
(To hear not even one more sound) ,
And without Worry - who will know -
The Pain which resides in my Soul?
Trevor, thou wert an Angel found,
Whose bless'd Spirit lives Forev'rmore,
In all the Hearts of all who knew,
Thy Spirit, gentle as Morning-Dew
In tears o'er a New Golden Shore,
Which rises with the Mem'ry of Thee:
Everyone's a True Blessing to Have,
And All of the Love thy Soul Gave,
Shall ring-out thro' Eternity.