Ink

by

McKenna Byrne

Nothing is lost - but what would you ever know
Being so harsh and to all hardships blind -
of mercy nursing back the anguished mind
To a wider vision, at the end of woe?
How stealthily you hatched your ugly hour to go -
So bored with my prospect - so careless should I find
A death-blow in the heartache left behind.
As, severed some, the rose proceeds to grow,
Did I contend with injury for gain;
Some weeping did, until grief's wise design
Anointed, blessed, and brought me to regain
Far more than lost - reshaping art of mine
Wherein you shrink - and it's rather nice to think
Of you now - diminished to a little line of ink.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at IN THE COMPANY OF ANGELS
by: Paul Curtis
from: Woking, England, UK

To visit all of McKenna Byrne's poems, click HERE

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