Sunset Road

He saw her shoulders, bare and shaking,
Cold beneath the weight of care;
He gave her all the warmth he had to spare

For what he left behind was all
That mattered in the end;
The sustenance of memory in a friend

It’s the service we remember:
How it was he touched the less and made it more,
How it was he dressed the sick, the lame, the sore

With matters of infringement
Not a subject for his many sharpened paints —
To those who need, the giving are their saints

The sunset of too short, too soon
Does not impinge the value of the light:
But I wish we could have held off

Night

Author: Sibelius Russell

Sibelius Russell (a/k/a/ Owen "Beleaguered" Servant) lives a life of whimsical servitude -- whatever that means. View all posts by Sibelius Russell