Faithful
What treasure rare and highly hung should ever lofty drape,
‘Cross heavens bright while flouting fate,
Ever lofty accolade, past reach of fingers stretched,
What would soften stony aura?
What touch could soften apathy flesh bound?
Let not bitter remembrance sting,
But adoration soften cares bygone,
Truth might soften hardness old,
Though proven only hard of trial,
Proven still when heart relents
Copyright © Dawne Crumpler | Year Posted 2015
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