Army Mom’s Safe Haven



Once, long ago, a friend gave me a book
of poems - gems, the fruit of many minds;
I read them, thoughtless of the toil they took
The words moved softly as the stream that winds.

But now I know the lines I glibly read
Perhaps were born of pain - a broken heart;
Regret that followed with its stealthy tread -
the arrow of remorse with a searching dart;

For wisdom comes with Time's stern tutelage;
the years are keys, unlocking many a door;
Now, sometimes as I read, mist blurs the page -
Here, soul meets soul, a precious golden store.

Written by Margaret E. Bruner