By Melissa Wren
Why must I sit on shattered sands of restless seas?
Each grain of beach passes through my hands.
Why does the sunshine grace my fingertips,
like lips of love songs sung so sublime?
The whims of fantasies, false promises
Do as they please, stripping me of dignity.
Why do the sparrows sing as they do?
They see much more than I have a clue.
With each storm of change comes clouds of doubt
The pandemonium I can’t live without
False promises pan out the way they do
With God’s great mercies to see me through.
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