The shadows of sorrow deepen
The minor miseries and great
Unfold, slightly unexpected
And the great mystery is not this
But that somehow the weary eyes
See through it all (in general)
To some unfathomed promise
The grandchild still delights and
Is welcomed even though it’s known
His life must inevitably be littered
With regrets, lost friends, disease
And hopes scattered and disappointed
All this is known and understood
And yet the weary eyes don’t cry
But smile with joy untainted
lance leopold, about 1 year ago
Beautifully said Martin,and thank you for sharing your thoughts.
RonniLeigh, about 1 year ago
awwww how precious it is a delight to read New Born. I really like this!
chanel, about 1 year ago
Lovely words, well said!
kseriphyn
,
about 1 year ago
New born is always new hope, and that is something worthy of celebrating.