As I walk past the lake,
I see branches shake,
And the trees sway.


I am overcome with dismay of an approaching storm,
But I realize, it is only the gentle breeze of early morn;
I enter through the gates of the cold graveyard, called The Lakeside Park.
Only to see, away from me, about a yard; tortured souls lying in deep, silent sleep.
Away I flee--
For a grief-struck and pained soul, such as me, the sight of death and solitude is too horrid to behold.
To me, joy seems like long hunted, invaluable gold.


I sit on a stile and think...if...

Gone are the days of depression,
Time heals me and changes my expression.
Think, I, not of the bygone days,
It was God testing me, in his own ways,
I see myself walk past the same old lake of solitude,
But, now, it is filled with happy faces and joy of the multitude.


And, now, again it is time for me to contemplate---
I resume my walk; the same dreary atmosphere greets me,
But, refusing to be overcome,
I walk away, towards the ray of hope.