Should tedious days mock me to the end,
And mar my future with impoverished strife;
Should leaden burdens cause my back to bend,
And tortured turmoil haunt my every night;
Should darkest hours like a decade be,
And every winter last a thousand years;
Each second be an eon’s agony,
And every moment hold a billion fears;
Should heaven’s brightest orb surcease to shine,
And wretched clouds forever mask the moon,
Should dark despair devour all my time,
And stalk me to the very edge of doom;
I feel that I could bear it if I knew,
That on the morrow I would be with you.
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.