The dreary day
Was clouded o'er,
And the wet green floor
Of Mother Earth
Laminated the heart of stone,
Where compassion is
Cold and never humble,
And love turns
To hate among friends.
The cold chill
Of the blowing wind
Freezes the emotions
So that no one
Speaks of caring
And never of sharing.
There is but one
Who keeps all going.
But he is small
In the weather
Of gloomy confusion
But Hope is always
In competition.
Brenda Eller Davis
