Warrior
Time is a trickle of tears that seep
Through the veil,
Wet with moisture of years that weep
Sob, and wail.
What does it matter is they drip down
Your aged face,
Furrowing lines, and forcing a groan?
Grief has grace.
Grace and a dignity all its own,
Worn with years,
Tears, and the battle fought all alone,
Braving fears.
Copyright © Steve Eng | Year Posted 2010
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