Due to the pain that was worsening in my hands and arms I have been on as much of a writing break as my self control has been able to succeed in. I have of course penned some lines here and there, and this poem was written in fragments, usually

Doubtful hours Proved by wilted flowers When they scattered Petals, like hopes shattered Hours lasting Years, too many, stashing Up with fears too Heavy, petals that grew. There is a face That darkness can’t erase, Though rain obscure, But always it is pure. Stems stark and bare Stand brave, remember