Question

another poem (:

There is a residue of hope
In every act of grief,
A beauty at the source of pain,
A truth that brings relief.
Mourning is a morning song
Sung just before the light,
Though little else is visible
To those that watch the night.

And all our tears must turn to grass,
And all our sorrows be
But dissonance that we'll resolve
In some new harmony.

And all our pain must shine upon
The meadows of our grace
That you might share our happiness
And lend our light your face.

Answer 1

thats good (: good job!!