Monday, January 11, 2016


A broken old man,
Sat alone with his,
Old ugly thoughts:
Regretting history;
Mourning chance;
Hating everything.
His black ugly soul,
Eclipsing the light -
A last drear winter.

Yet, the sun rises again.
There is still God above;
And an abiding spouse;
And a good strong son;
And two grandchildren, 
Full of grace and of joy.
Birds sing their hymns -
Old man with half smile.

~ Tiwago

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