poem about a lost girl

poem about a lost girl

By Parker S. Taylor

She had said to me, her fate was shrouded—

and the shadows of her face were clouded,

and the sad vitality of her dancing tears

pained my eyes as her voice in my ears,

as they glinted and glistened so graciously

and “Oh, despair!” they were telling me.

She had said to me, she was lost forever—

she saw no end to her sorrow, never,

her life was all consumed by strife,

and rushing time, and dwindling life,

and everything she hoped for, craved,

and everything that she had braved.

“When rushing, flowing, dwindling Time,

streaming, streaking, down-pouring Time,

worries you, don’t you see the freedom?—

the blessed, hopeful, freeing freedom—

that comes free with free life upon free Earth.

Borrowed time means free time, not dearth.”

And in due time—in her time—she wept,

and in a pool of tears we both slept,

and in time, she came around again to me;

over time, having held on so bravely,

she turned again to all of us, to say,

once again, she saw the light of day.