The Hidden Cost
Of loss.
Walking in the wilderness,
Counting up the times of love and lust,
The veil and the dress,
A beauty slain then glory turns to dust.
Fortune fraught with favours, I taste the different flavours,
And sample the hidden costs of loss,
Tastes my hungry tongue so oft I find it savours,
Then after all I bear it like a cross.
And now she can’t tempt me, her room is bare and empty,
Her steps along the hall have disappeared,
As I count to twenty, once bountiful and plenty,
Thoughts dart through my heart I often feared.
There always is a cost and like the winter frost,
It settles in my soul like storms of snow,
Through this great impost, I know all is not lost,
I cheer the chosen residue of woe.
There’s peace as I pause and ponder,
The faction’s fortunes and the fun,
And I see in the far-off yonder,
The same feelings when I was young.
When love is lost I’ll bear the cost,
It falls in sheets, on streets, like summer rain,
More hills and rivers, waiting to be crossed,
None of them, I ever did in vain.
I’m taken to the Lake of the Lonely,
It happens deep within dreams,
Now I am the one and only,
As my mind flows deep in sleepy streams.
So, I’ll never count the cost, like stones that gather moss,
I’ll venture down the same path once again,
And I’ll not emboss, the hidden costs of loss,
That’s marked mulled minds, caught out in the rain.
©
David Rudder
2024
Thank you for reading this piece and my poetry.
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