Some signs predicted mountains soon would crash
And we would, too, like stones dropped in the deep
Where doubt takes over truth in dreamy sleep
And counting doesn’t compensate lost cash.
Those signs suggested treasured stores held trash
Since death consumes what excess we might keep.
But who needs more? The miser, too, will weep
When life moves on for both the wise and rash.
By what we take for granted we are led
And what we give makes rich the giving hand.
The blessings she proclaimed link me to you.
I don’t remember much of what she said.
Her words I doubt I'd ever understand.
Her voice though sounded kind. May it come true.
Linked to dVerse Poetics. Sarah is hosting the the theme of harbinger.