A child may die in times of drought,
yet still believes and will not doubt,
And even though there be no fruit,
they'll always cling to faith's bright root.

My mind drifts back when just a child,
when people fought, becoming riled.
That I would stand, cling to my dreams,
as I revile Earth's cloak of schemes.

And though I'm old, this man will cling,
to future's hope, to dance, to sing,
I know I'm loved, in spite of hate,
as mountains fall and seal their fate.

There is someone who comforts me,
who'll not desert, nor let me be.
In partnership I'm filled with dreams,
with no regrets - what might have been.

R.Owen 26/2/2022.