The forgotten years

Burnt out forest

  • The locust ate my recent years
    The ones spent prisoned by those fears
    Anguished moanings, painfully
    ‘Gainst which I struggled manfully.
    In the forgotten years.

  • Those years – now gone – are ne’er returned
    Destroyed. An’ broken. Black an’ burned.
    Resigned the struggle. Out of breath.
    Wondered if my friend was death?
    In the forgotten years.
  • My fruitful years supplanted those
    By God’s own grace again arose.
    But none will guess, and few will hear
    The tale of hurt, the gush of tears.
    Of my forgotten years.


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