The Robe

A deeply dark midwinter's night

as snow is blown in gentle puffs,

I find myself at window's ledge

my old, worn robe shows tattered cuffs

This treasured robe shares memories

of rocking children as they sleep;

I've worn it by a fevered bed

and kneeled in prayer for dear, lost sheep.

I see a tiny rip was made

by little toddler's reaching hands.

I kissed away his tiny hurts

with patience motherhood demands.

My robe brings comfort as I watch

the feathered snowflakes falling down.

Nor would I trade it for fine silk,

for with it memories abound.

Write A Review

Recognized

Pays one point and 2 member cents.

You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.