Faith
The howling wind whipped the poor girl's hair,
Her ivory crinkles waving in despair,
Darting eyes, watery and sore,
Tearstained cheeks but no tears that tore,
Her bottom lip trembled, all the stars assembled,
As the night's sky chased away the day,
No light to speak of, no light to say,
Yet the heavens still opened, yet the girl still did pray.
- By Tobias Hankle
