Another short and basic poem born of thoughts about… well, pretty much *everything* going on in the world around us.
She walks in shadows to and fro, sometimes yes and sometimes no, answers to the questions born inside her mind, quite battle worn. Each day births yet another pain, and tears rush down like pouring rain. Know not what the morrow brings, lamenting times when souls could sing and dance about without clipped wings. The shadows now in which she lives do not make for happy things. Bittersweet the morning dew that brings its wish for hope renewed.
