Sonnet 4 : Her Name Was Dawn


I know the pain of losing love's mender.
I've lost the truth of sunsets bright beyond;
I am but numb to nature's leaf lender.
So stuck am I, one star that cries for Dawn.

Yet here amidst my struggles with no end,
She is the moon that gives her heart so full.
Bandaged be my soulful struggle mended;
Her heart sang songs that killed the thoughts so dull!

By her, I slept so soft through each new night.
Like child, I wait in night's old prison ;
A hopeful vision with dreams of delight:
I can almost hear her say , "God listens."

"Yes, surely God is here," I say.
Her Heart it danced an angel's ballet.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem