Poetic Stream

When angels took my love in dawn's white light, I wallowed in the wake of fate gone wrong; too weak to fight my demons in the night, too numb to know the gift that was her song. Like brittle leaves left dying in a field I longed to rise on autumn's gusty breeze. Without the gift of wisdom's words to wield I searched for hope beneath unbending trees. But soon I heard the rippling of a stream; along its banks, I shed my deep dismay. Enchanting verses smoothed the cracks and seams and soothed my soul with sounds of words at play. I never thought the gift of poetry would bring the joy and peace that lives in me.