About Poetry

Post 4:

            I drove on, my life alone

            Fellows flown, no bridge to home

            The feeling felt was just in me,

            No warm surrender, no burdens flee

            But it is still I’m older now

            The waking loss, the heartache’s bow

            And yet the ebbing, yet the sound

            As I watch upon God’s ground

            When comes the something I’m to take

            Might I sleep, might I wake

            Drawing on what will I may

            I hope to God, to God I pray

          See. Nobody likes a poet. See you after.