Wounded

Something new to do instead of arts, and crafts.

Wounded
(For Lisa)

 Fell asleep anxious
 In my rocker
 A while ago
 Wanting to hear
 Church bells toll
 Murmer of crickets
 Chirping a symphony
 My wounded soul.

Like I thought
It never came
Until I dreamed
Then I heard
An angel sing
Whispering a tune.

Then it came
A healing warm
In solitude form
Calmed the storm
And saved me
My wounded ego.

D.A. Wittler 9/12/18