The Walk

I posted this poem last July 4th, but it never ceases to speak to me, so this might be an annual occurance. While the rest of the world is setting off fireworks, marching in parades, slurping down chilled watermelon and heating up the grill, a quiet walk with Sorrow will go sight unseen in the private world of those who grieve. Yet, who will come out richer?

Holding you in prayer today,

♥ ferree

I Walked a Mile with Pleasure

-Robert Browning Hamilton

I walked a mile with Pleasure;

She chatted all the way;

But left me none the wiser

For all she had to say.

I walked a mile with Sorrow,

And ne’er a word said she;

But, oh! The things I learned from her,

When sorrow walked with me.