by J.F. Pringle
Silent repose in clamorous ambiance,
Sitting in a world gone mad:
Crooked necks staring into glass squares.
A sea of lighted faces in which to find you,
Steady confidence long overdue.
Old Faith, tried and enduring, still guides.
And strength is a tide, washing away yesterday’s errors.
Failure floats away into a sea of forgetfulness.
But not glad memories of you; they remain.
Pillars of smoke and wraiths of the pain.