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Susan K. Rowse

The Harbor

You open your eyes every morning...
You harbor the scars of the past
You reach for the hand of an angel
She's there...beyond your grasp
I know the pains that you're feeling
I relate to the war of the soul
I hear and I fret over sadness
I rock to your rhythm to roll
I thrive on the promise of tomorrow
I bide each moment...I mope
I adore the thought that you'll need me
I persevere and I wait just to hope
I race along with the breezes
I seek the haven from pain
I'll rush to your arms within seconds
Reach out ...I'm wet from the rain