Atone

Atone

Atone? Why? In sin I’m not alone,
Alone I am, but I’m not a crone.
Crone?  I’m a male, like others I’m prone,
Prone to love, forever I moan.
Moan for her, seeds of my love were sown,
Sown on a Spring day, lying on stone.
Stone walls surround me, they can’t be thrown,
Thrown far away, if only I’d known,
Known that love can be lost, ‘ere full grown,
Grown strong and tall, unlike trees windblown
Windblown leaves; it’s fall, cold to the bone.
Bone bare skin chilled, no one hears me groan,
Groan out loud in pain, I’m on my own.
Own up to my sins; for them, I atone.

Jim Dorrell
4/25/11