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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Ancient Doubles Prayers Uttered And Hours Missing You, Ancient Doubles Sing, sing of the sadness and lonely hour Of cold rain and its shivering shower Empty bed and those nights forever lost Dawn's aches, sprinkles of glittering frost. Prayers uttered and hours missing you. Your soft laugh, your bright smile, all that you do. Sing, sing of love's inspiration given Our times, our love of together livin' Our future treasures, what we have now lost Our new sorrows what living apart costs. Prayers uttered and hours missing you. Your soft laugh, your bright smile, all that you do. Sing, sing about nights of heavenly delight Glory of love, long before our last fight Waking to enjoy summer's blessed day Both our vows to forever in love stay. Prayers uttered and hours missing you. Your soft laugh, your bright smile, all that you do. Sing, sing my dear- of our life and our love How we both knelt and thanked God above The times we so missed each other's touch How once we had romance, so very much. Prayers uttered and hours missing you. Your soft laugh, your bright smile, all that you do. R.J. Lindley, Nov. 8th, 1977 Rhyme, ( Heartache and loss, when the world has crashed.) ******** In Arrogance This World We Think We Made Dark wings fell from the snowy mountain ledge Down the hill into the porcupine hedge Lying there whimpering in last flutter Like morning's burnt toast absent its butter. O' but the red jam is so truly sweet The high mountain glows with its icy sheet There the last ghost bird stands without its wings Morn's breath dances forth and so proudly sings. Mother Nature casts a condemning eye Soon fall splashing tears from a wailing sky The bird changes into a human form Life declares- yes this is another norm. O' but mortals such can never believe We live in a world born to deceive Here fantasy is a fool's great parade In arrogance this world we think we made. Dark wings fell from the snowy mountain ledge Down the hill into the porcupine hedge Lying there whimpering in last flutter Like morning's burnt toast absent its butter. O' but the red jam is so truly sweet The high mountain glows with its icy sheet There the last ghost bird stands without its wings Morn's breath dances forth and so proudly sings. R.J. Lindley, Nov. 15th, 1977 Rhyme, ( Through the dark, a dim look taken )
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