The crystal-trickling water
spills off the weathered stone
Sunlight stoops to kiss his cheek
and tell him he's not alone.
Peace is such a quiet thing
so hard to see, to feel
But in our place died perfect Grace
Thank God that peace is real.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Collection 1.0
Poetrya collection of words attempting to capture just a bit of light, a touch of dark, and much of the Confused in between
