One weary week is passing,
I find promise unraveling this evening,
Finally the dark is rising,
Arm yourself with a smile,
There is no need to lay down dormant,
And obliterate hope,
I am intact and I am alive,
Follow in foot,
“Don’t say it,” she said.
“Put away your prescience,
I’d rather drown in despondency.”
Words of woe, hearts I cannot sew back together,
But I’ll gather the pieces.