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.
decorative; black and white photo of a woman with long hair resting her forehead against a tree trunk in the forest
Image by StockSnap from Pixabay

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