Winter Promises
I am seventy-six now, last season of life
As I know it, but poetry buds in this ancient of days
With some wisdom remaining (though faculties fail me),
May verse testify to all friends I would praise!
Is there recourse for poets whose dreams don't survive?
Those too shy to ink verse their faint hearts lack the color to rhyme,
Might blank verse also serve though no meter's apparent,
Some hope that shared content still mitigates crime?
Does the fact we exist suggest Time has no end,
Does the depth of the abyss not sing of eternity’s stain?
Though the canvas God paints, human mind can’t encompass,
Does Joy of God’s wisdom save Him from all pain?
There’s a peace that age brings, though spent feelings are ash,
For Grace promises all will find rest who share faith in God's Love!
Did God's Son not choose death (on the cross for his brothers)?
Join Noah on Ark as he waits on God’s dove!
Brian Johnston
1st of February 2019
Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2019
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