Four Words

A short poem I wrote the other day about things I was feeling

Four words are left upon me now
To face the men whose furrowed brow
Tells me no longer to inquest
But to make dearest my time for rest

And in these darkened, stormy days
Upon the hills and meadows lay
These four words for better days
To a better place I long to find
One like the sanctuary in your eyes
So beautiful, like the summer bright and kind
But one that does not exsist solely in my mind

These four words in utterance breath
I feel as though I could be gripped by death
and not feel sorrow with you my dear
Because in the tides of the darkest hour
You’ll take my hand and whisper loud
Come save this boy
Come with me now