Truth
Your voice still ripples through the night,
Soft, tender and yet shining bright,
A warm moon rising in the east
The gentle touch that calms the beast.
You after all these years remain
The morning fog that keeps me sane,
A place of solitude and rest
The wellspring of my sunshine best.
The seasons change and I grow old
Yet I don’t fear the lines untold,
For truth is silent and will fight
To turn wrong doings into right.
@spasmicallyperfect
I often tell my children, especially when I feel they are hiding something, that the truth will always come out. It may take some time, but it always seems to find a way. Beautiful poem.
Jennifer
Haha, my mother always ‘threatened’ the same thing too
. Thank you.