Each morning, ere the sun quite dares to rise, At sunset, when I look up from the page, It is your face--not his--which greets my eyes, Your soft smile rising, nothing like his rage, And every waking moment in between My pen spins words to words in careful lines, I need no longer walk the knife-edge keen, Nor guess at hidden doubts or cruel designs, So even when old terrors give me pause A furrowed brow cuts quick, and I despair, I know you set aside your worthy cause, My sorry hide entrusted to your care, I translate dawn to dusk and cannot see How I deserve this friendship given me.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2020-03-16 05:43 am (UTC)At sunset, when I look up from the page,
It is your face--not his--which greets my eyes,
Your soft smile rising, nothing like his rage,
And every waking moment in between
My pen spins words to words in careful lines,
I need no longer walk the knife-edge keen,
Nor guess at hidden doubts or cruel designs,
So even when old terrors give me pause
A furrowed brow cuts quick, and I despair,
I know you set aside your worthy cause,
My sorry hide entrusted to your care,
I translate dawn to dusk and cannot see
How I deserve this friendship given me.