Both Home And Grace...
are we running out of time?
the sands in the houglass
stained by blood, and want...
whose face on the milk carton?
whose footprints in the alley?
whose tongue turns the nut?
whose breath stagnant with hurt?
we write our stories in lifetimes,
lived, or burned...
the fire itself dim with age.
is love then destiny, a curse,
or a storm?
doth the night ever end?
and the unknown ship
sailing unknown waters,
carries the scent
of both home and grace!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Added by Poetry Lover
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