There is a Font

There is a font I know to which I go
With all my sorrow, worry and woe,
And I do so without fanfare or show,
And I do not think but to take drink,
And then to rest myself on its brink
As I lazily blink neath the bright sun,
Then softly slumber unencumbered
By cares and how all the world fares
If only for the spell of a timeless time
Till bell chime bids me return home,
Yet the font will ever be there for me
. . .
There is a font I know to which I go
With all my sorrow, worry and woe

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5 thoughts on “There is a Font

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