*By Ricky L. Mohl Sr.*
In the shallow pit of an early grave,
We look to a life we could not save.
So destitute of this wretched need,
And a livid misery must always feed.
Hopes and dreams are broken glass,
And brave decisions are pick or pass.
Hand in hand the teardrops shall rain,
They fall with little pity upon the pain.
They in the white shirts and black ties,
Spreading solace in words of disguise.
Preaching from the book of good word,
Speaking the whispers not to be heard.
The bitterness flows so crimson deep,
Filled of thoughts that haunt the sleep.
The agony of sorrow comes in a retch,
Sympathy is found in a finger’s stretch.
For there is that in a love between two,
Who put faith in the joy to create anew.
But sadness would come to steal away,
What hope is there now to beg and pray?
The years have passed, a memory fade,
Life creation times two has been made.
But blood did spill in a reminder of past,
It laid a thick line so sure and steadfast.
The livid misery will discover it’s course,
And a wretched need will find it’s source.
Reflections back on a life that was given,
For faith is too valuable to be unforgiven.
Ricky L. Mohl Sr.
December 11, 2017
© 2018, Ricky Mohl. All rights reserved.