Shrouded veil, joy to break.

Sorrow in the morning, downpour of the rain,

Downcast of the heavens, the recollection of my pain,

My younger years thus wasted, my hands upon my chest,

A heart would surely flutter, "When will my heart then rest?"

The days were dark and dismal, a shroud, a greyest veil,

Uncertainty for today, and what tomorrow may yet, entail,

A breaking of the day light, hope to follow soon,

The striking of the hand to twelve, the recognition of noon,

I set aside my mop, and placed my broom away,

To see hope upon the daylight, with joy to surely stay,

It seems like storms last forever, the mind may conceive,

But joy comes in the morning, for those who would, believe...

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https://www.instagram.com/cccreativewriter/

https://www.inkitt.com/stories/fantasy/610198/chapters/4

https://vocal.media/fiction/the-warrior-dwelling-in-the-twilight

https://vocal.media/poets/oh-if-only

https://vocal.media/poets/as-uncertain-as-the-sea

https://vocal.media/poets/what-a-man-will-do-for-love

https://vocal.media/poets/the-old-miser

https://vocal.media/poets/beach-days-still-ahead-wwv70p094q