The Cloak

The Cloak

Give to me
Your web of sorrow
And I will weave it
On the morrow
Into a cloth of shimmering gold
Interlaced with spells of old,
Chants against the days of sadness,
Armor for the days of madness;
Protecting hearts not meant to be
Stunned by life harsh threnody.

poem by David McLansky
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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