A Thought for Our Friends Overseas
The words are stuck - emotions flow,
as mourning hearts let candles glow,
while the banners are flying low,
after another dire blow.
Storms might spare the bowing willow,
and old mangroves brave a billow,
yet, hatred cuts the deepest "hollow"
wrecking all the souls, who follow.
Sweet words can sound far too mellow,
bitter terms growl like a bellow;
wrath keep off the lovely swallow,
noisy cheers look rather shallow.
A humble quest: Father, allow!
Let's recall the lives we hallow,
cut from our earthly "sallow"
leaving gaps of empty fallow.