The Sun Comes

These are the times
Of strain when
The sun comes with no-
One and I
Watch from my window
All the happy people
Arm in arm and sitting in
Groups of twos and threes
On the grass.  My solitude
Is a pain that cuts me
Deep in the heart of the heat
This writing thinking place
Does feed but the sound
Of another human voice
Not my own would be
Sweet.  But I must 
Do as God has asked 
And live these days as
Gift, never mind about
The cross he places
On my back and bids me
Lift.

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