JB ( / )

Beholding

My woeful self that did he touch
and grant me freedom on suffering much
Famine left in withered flower
Lo, nature hath charmed empower
Sleep no more thy broken bosom
On each cheek a river flows from
In the midst of the storm that rages
You are always there through out the ages
Bringing new life to the withered rose
Beholding to thy repose

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Comments (2)

JoAnn, this is poignant and beautiful. I could feel every word. So lovely. Thanks for sharing them my friend. David
This classical poem leaves a poignant feelings in me. You've got varied inclinations in poetry.