There Are Times the Sea Is
There are times the sea is sullen
And all the wind can carry is despair.
The morning barely
brightens the dark air,
And life is what no comfort can
There is pain too pure for any sage,
When breath is what
precisely is not fair,
And hope seems hopelessly beyond
Unlikely to recover much with age.
Ah, then, sweet child,
know that you are loved
Simply for the glory of your
Regardless what you think or say or do!
This is a gift that
cannot be removed,
A passion for a passion beyond seeing
within the darkness just for you.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon