THE PALE ROAD

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   THE PALE ROAD

The house is quiet, silent,
Except for the ticking of the big clock
At the bottom of the stairs,
Whose chimes keep company
With those who cannot sleep.

Just before dawn,
A thin moon slides in through the window
And in a moment those awake
Walk the pale road of remembrance,
Of longing, until the past
Becomes the pale road of prayer.

Let the clock chime again,
That the past may be left behind,
The moon soothe the restless heart,
The whispered words bring peace.

                      ©2021 Gwen Grant.  

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5 thoughts on “THE PALE ROAD”

  1. ‘And in a moment those awake
    Walk the pale road of remembrance,
    Of longing, until the past
    Becomes the pale road of prayer.’
    So true.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. So glad you liked the poem, Kritika. I loved your sky. When you’re awake at night, thinking,
    it’s as if you’re on your own until your realise how many others are awake alongside you!
    Gwen.

    Liked by 1 person

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