Joan's poems

There are truly days
When this drugdrag body
Pushes though, along.
There are truly days,
When man's love seems
Far from home.
There are truly days,
When his hand and eye
Seem to be withdrawn.

Will that youthful laughter fill again,
A little baby's cry
Fill my sigh?
And apple blossoms
Fill our lips?
The forgotten mournful days
Will be white cloud ships.

Joan Mac Dougall