deepundergroundpoetry.com
when hope dies
An Octet
i
serve no
purpose here
upon this earth
if, every morning,
waste i God’s precious time,
and when the eventide falls,
by my limited astuteness,
complain i that life is fruitless.
have i no care for the calls
of the victims i climb,
as they dare to sing,
devoid of mirth?
do i care
when hope
dies?
© Copyright 2019 May 31
by Clyve A. Bowen♫
i
serve no
purpose here
upon this earth
if, every morning,
waste i God’s precious time,
and when the eventide falls,
by my limited astuteness,
complain i that life is fruitless.
have i no care for the calls
of the victims i climb,
as they dare to sing,
devoid of mirth?
do i care
when hope
dies?
© Copyright 2019 May 31
by Clyve A. Bowen♫
Published 31st May 2019
Author's Note
View visual (copy/paste):
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http://mydo.cx/MTE1NDVk
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31st May 2019 10:26pm
3rd Jun 2019 3:31pm
