Calmly strolling along a riverbank, trying so reverently staying on course. Life took the essence she trusted, and a thief stole her horse.
Stopped to pick up a rock, aimed it for the still water. It wasn’t the tragedy that made everything off course, it was the aftermath that got her.
Laughing she knew this river, the winding and relenting flow. Honor kept her plodding along, and nature made her glow.
Walking along trying to figure it out, she remembered her purse. Inside it, wadded up in a ball, was the perfect verse.
Written by the hand of love, in haste and utter betrayal. Life reminded her it was wrong, and he, her worst fail.
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