Fill thy heart with gladness

And suffer thy will with happiness

Happiness that stretches to the sky

And fulfillment that marches

 to a beat within

I make amends with my past

But you can always contest this

The glory sits in a realm of a story

That is told when I am long gone

And it precludes hostility and chances lost

It summons the sun and

Is won in the passion recognized

With how I lived

Posted by Aimee in Poetry