A Sort Of Prayer

Now I’m really going back in time! Yes I was a poet, even 55 years ago!  I just pulled this one out of my poetry anthology and decided to share it with you this week.

A Sort Of Prayer

©1967 Allen E. Rizzi

When mahogany hair no longer plays upon my chest;

When her eyes no longer flicker when we have come to rest;

When our flame is snuffed with nothing left to burn,

Tell me my brave God, where then will I turn?

Did you like this? You can read 89 of them in my book, Prescriptions from the Rhyme Doctor.

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