by Jason C. Ford
Although the folder held within my hands is emptied out
Of contents I treasured years ago, I have no doubt
Of finding another means of gaining a source of hope.
I simply place the folder on a table made of wood
And leave my home already eased in a tranquil mood
As one immune to former lies which gripped me like a rope.
The lies I left behind cannot approach my back
As I no longer walk along the wayward track
I used to take through years of blindness gone away.
I await the day for another folder to come
With a set of words which remedy senses numb
Unto a state of healing from all forms of past decay.
Copyright © 2013 by
Jason C. Ford
Proceed to Challenge 515...