Time

Time passed tender hands across grief’s eyes,
truth was lost in shadow, so were lies; 
hid the vision memory would display,
closed raw, sodden lids against cruel day.

In the darkened drifting, wounds were healed,
minutes managed hours, then days, then years;
so peace did knit the tangled threads of pain,
brought pure flesh of hope to life again. 

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About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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