Once I knew stones that did not weep,
that dreams held dear kept best in sleep;
the words grown weary 'neath the weight
now heaped o'er stone, hearth and gate.
A debt of doubt, owed twice, unspent -
a price heavy paid for sorrows sent.
Furl now all hearts bent coarse with sorrow,
and hold brave the course against the 'morrow.
M.
[Written in 2008]
_________________
My thanks to all the wonderful members here; I will miss the opportunity to continue to learn and work with you.
For those who seek an alternative, it is coming.
So long, and thanks for all the fish!