EPITAPH OF THE LIGHT
I shall not weep by a shrouded moon
when winters veil is drawn,
nor vengeful sit neath bitter boughs
until the frozen dawn.
For I will take me to my bed
and dream the suns kind touch
for fear won’t take the dark away
that cloak I loathe so much.
And when I rise from sleep’s safe bower
to greet the precious light
I’ll know that with each passing hour
short lived will be the night.