A CRY IS HEARD - poem
A Cry is Heard
The plaintive wail of my heart
Wends into the night;
A sort of longing melancholy,
A sense of searching but not finding,
A form of serenity and isolationism.
The pity of it all strikes my heart anew
All that is past cannot be recovered;
My self-being quakes at this misfortune.
© Richard L. Provencher 2008