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All poems: copyright by
Nicholas Gordon
Free scrapbook poems
permission to use
provided by the author. |
There has to be a way across these mountains.
Somewhere there's a pass we haven't found.
The setting sun casts rows of jagged shadows
Swallowing the hope we had allowed.
Cold descends, the iron will of darkness,
When nothing can be done except survive.
Love like burning embers keeps us breathing
As bitterness engulfs the icy stars.
Ah, my love! There will be, will be morning!
The sun will rise up like the cavalry.
We will find our way across these mountains
To build our lives within the dream of peace. |
