When days are disappointment-full and grief
Flows by you like a river, and the sun
Shines down upon the vestige of belief,

And you feel like you are the only one,
The sole proprietor of all this guilt,
Then put all that away, and have be done.

For this is not a town which you have built,
And these are not your smokestacks, nor your bricks:
You are a patch upon this crazy quilt.

Connection's not a label to affix,
It is a thing to strive for, one-to-one,
The love and kindness no news contradicts.

So give not your regard to noise, that thief,
And keep more than a vestige of belief.

Published by

Beleaguered Servant

Owen Servant is an online poet working in a style that's been described as "compulsive". In real life, he is an actuary, because being a poet wasn't unpopular enough.

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