In all the obligation that one’s duty brings
Exists some meager wish that sighs and hopes and clings,
There weigh the loss which from the smallest niche inside
Abides with desperation soundly hid by pride.
Still dwells the waning hope that chance yet rages bold
Though wintered in the ort that’s left of growing old.
In manner chaste I find my quiet hours are sown
Within the palest veil of all I’ve ever known
Where image of the past that with distress was wrought
Some untamed soul within the net lies careless caught.
Since unshed tears oft lurk behind the tracing of a smile
Self-contemplation ought display the hushed façade of guile
While quiv’ring hand and timid step by age and time impaired
Mask vestiges of dignity God graciously has spared.
Claire V. Bogdanos 