Skyward Pray
She stands on threshold, him to wait
and seasons pass, it was her Spring,
his smile to crown the Hills of late,
war to confront his Heaven's gate,
benign her face his heart will sting,
soldier's contrition minds to cling,
dark angels drift above his fate,
fromward revenge and his gun-sling.
Who's on the golden cross she wore,
forced mountain winds the souls to stray,
upon his land the rain streams fore,
the rivulets flow down the shore,
chrysanthemums blossoms to sway,
the raindrops fall and dance and fray,
The skies rhyme on red fountain gore,
Her verses rhyme and skyward pray.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
Added by Poetry Lover
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