Broken
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Lord, I am calling you,
can you not hear my small voice?
The pages of my live are fluttering away,
empty pages . . .
and I am helpless to stop them.
Can you not give me a sign?
Something to grasp onto.
Life is a stage, it is said
and I am, on that stage alone,
broken and lost.
_______________________________
October 29, 2012
Poetry/Verse/broken
Copyright Protected, ID 10-431-824-29
All Rights Reserved, 2012, Constance La France
Submitted to the Premier contest, Early October
sponsor, Brian Strand
Third Place
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2012
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