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Ramona Wingart Poem
Her eyes were pools of tired tears,
Filled with memories of her years.
She was not sad but just resigned
To know her body had declined.
Her face was lined and worn with care,
Her body shook with ill despair.
But as I waited by her side,
I knew that hope had not yet died.
For within her eyes, I saw
A smile of joyful, yearning awe.
And as a light shone ‘round her face,
She was bathed in warmth and grace.
And suddenly old age had passed,
For she was youthfulness at last.
Now her soul breathes forevermore
As she’s just entered Heaven’s door.
Copyright © Ramona Wingart | Year Posted 2024
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Details |
Ramona Wingart Poem
I speak my thoughts...you do not hear. I reach to touch...you are not near.
I matter not to you, nor to any other. I am invisible...you do not see me.
I have no face; I have no substance. I try to speak, there are no words...you took my voice! So, now I huddle, fetal form. I strain to hear the dullness of my heart as its beat slows and fainter gets. Now even I can no longer see a speck, a shadow left of me. I am void.
Copyright © Ramona Wingart | Year Posted 2024
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