the first to fold ~

tornadoday

of sorrows
I have spoken –
not with tears
or sore regret
for every time the leaving left
a heart not broken yet

an ailing porch
and night pulled close
with nothing much to fear
for the sound of love
returning home –
cross miles
and men – and years

the first to fold
of every sin
begged forgiveness come
without the need for telling
would save us –
every one

came the night
by firelight –
and kept the coffee strong
til morning fell
with none to tell –
of righteousness gone wrong

as scattered verse
by prophets cursed
can’t be one to say –
what reasons came for letting go
and not a one to stay

. . .

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