zarephath

one widow, one son, one meal, one corpse, one prophet [I Kings 17]

i
dead
my only lover
sped
from me forever
here
our only child
dear
and meek and mild

ii
food
gone from our table
would
that I were able
for
my baby boy
more
means to employ

iii
lo
our final morsel
so
meagre a parcel
stuffs
the appetite
of
a gileadite

iv
death
comes to my laddie
breath
gone from his body
i
am left undone
by
my only son

v
nought
but faith to cherish
ought
i now to perish
use
but emptiness
dues
for plentiness?

vi
must
you make my living
just
a bed of grieving?
raise
my son to me
praise
be unto thee!

vii
springs
of living water
bring
your widowed daughter
bread
forevermore
fed
from heaven's store

© Copyright 2020 May 23
by Clyve A. Bowen♫