PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

In those years, each of the three of them, in which every breath

was a burden, and life?---a bad imitation of unredeemed death.

I even believed that my beloved sky, with its variety,

had withdrawn from view, and had, perforce, abandoned me.

So that even the most expansive and sun-drenched day

was like a shriveled carcass draped in a pall of undulating gray.

Yet, I have no right to believe that you are unforgiveable:

that, in itself, would imperil my soul.