Notes About The Poem

To my father 

The Little Things

Our home feels very different,
Family life must still go on.
Caught in a void of shapeless thoughts,
It’s our faith that keeps us strong

For it’s the little things that hurt,
And the words that once were spoke.
No chance of consolation,
Gone forever up in smoke.

Do we ever know someone?
Or is only the veneer.
What beats beneath the surface,
Remains to most unclear.

In the choices that we make,
At the time seem set in stone.
As we go upon life’s journey,
More and more we seem alone.

What once were vibrant colours,
That makes up our daily lives.
As one season comes then goes,
One by one the light declines. 

Eternal life is promised,
By our saviour and our friend.
In this ever-changing world we live,
There to meet us at the end.
N Windle © 2017
Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

Poem

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Muideen Avatar
February 3, 2018 at 3:15 AM
I did not intend to come online, i tell you, but you write catch my attention. Your are a brilliant writer.
Sands Avatar
June 17, 2017 at 1:42 PM
So sad and well written :)
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