My Spirit Fell Poem by Steve Woodward
My Spirit Fell
My spirit fell
In days of goodness spent -
But not sampled.
And echoes now to force a rent
My spirit fell – I tarried.
My spirit prised and sought
Not faught – too late -
To twixt the gates, feed hunger
What worm for husband would she take?
Or court when hope was younger.
My spirit waned and paled
In vain
Accustomed now to fretting
For theirs whose sun has fire in throes
The closer is mine to setting.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/23/2024 2:34:23 PM # 1.0.0.1119
