Faye Sizemore

MOURNING MYSELF

If this evening be… all that was left for me
on the pages of time…
I would mourn and there would be
gentle tears falling… falling as dew…
on the face of the night
… coating the trees and mountains
to silver in the moonlight
I would pray to the Spirits Of Earth
and through the darkness
… the dew and the moon
would guard my dying spot
until dawn when I would stand
… face to face humbly with my God
… or the Devil… according to my lot…