Suspicion gathered wearily,
in wary hidden qualms,
distrust was settled queasily;
too many broken parts.

Hopeful moments scattered,
like chaff upon the ground,
each gesture had been mocked;
bitten by hate’s hound.

Heart had offered fulsomely,
with grace and inner calm,
tolerant, compassionate;
huddled in grief’s palm.

There was no new returning,
the blows had struck too hard,
doubt continued yearning;
trust had no more cards.

About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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1 Response to

  1. Beautiful, I resonate deeply with your poem Ros.

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