Troubled Grounds
These frail and weary wings,
They can't launch me over these things,
I move about like a bob that swings,
Each day bites and stings,
I'm tied to gloom’s apron strings,
Turbulence like a bell rings,
I wear hope slings,
Looking beyond all dreary things,
Listening to the song that faith sings.
October 6, 2022.
Single Stanza Monorhyme Poetry Contest,
L. Milton Hankins.
Copyright © Thompson Emate | Year Posted 2022
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