"She stands there waiting by the gate--
Ever watchful, never late.
A silent sentry in the rain;
Her face a mask of hidden pain
The time will come, the Trumpets sound
Her Love returned; HE WILL BE FOUND.
For now she waits - her vigil clear;
From day to week to month to year."
Return to Literary Hype Home Page
Go to Hyperion Institute Home Page
No comments:
Post a Comment