Loneliest Hour
I listen, content to hear raindrops from an anguished sky pour out.
My darkest hour of night is just a fragment of one day, only
a fragment of a fleeting life; but an ending to grief, I somehow doubt.
If I live through nights void of love, not alone but lonely,
(for there is a difference) I will dream of your face and wake happily.
For Broken Wing's Fragment of Life Contest, 2/23/16
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2016
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