There is little joy found when confined
In prisons we once termed refuge,
In the silence hope is left behind;
Cast out like objects in a deluge.

One wonders if there’ll be gladder days,
Or when the flow of time resumes,
And will light shine bright through the haze
So that the silenced world reblooms?

For lost was the wind both strong and renewing
That unbridled in the calm had blown,
Lost had been the haughty ocean waves foaming
That one could not view unless alone,
Lost had been the warm golden smiles blooming
That, like roses sweet, here were once grown.
These, as memories, withstood the darkness looming,
But like butterflies they’ve passed to the unknown.