Path by Ann Wood
Man walks day after dayalong its path thin.
Here, like a whirlwind inspired,
sometimes like a shadow, it is dim.
Once he sews his wings
and on the earth he does not tread.
Another time he crawls on his knees
and ask God for a respite.
So with the ups and downs
it reaches its Golgotha.
Hope a fragile corner within,
that he would come back here again.
Poetry by Ann Wood

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Written on 2019-10-05 at 23:40




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Marie Cadavieco |