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Word, like wind, cuts through you / Withers all but true you

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You are here: Home / Poetry / Riddles / Thursday Riddle (April 3, 2014)

Thursday Riddle (April 3, 2014)

Khalid Mukhtar · April 3, 2014 · 1 Comment

The purest of heart my service employs
To make a sweet calm to descend;
But when we are parted, the innocent noise
Brings all of the sweetness to end;
A part of me sounds like it burns and destroys,
Yet all of me is a good friend
To mother and father and brother and sister,
Who on me can come to depend.

Riddles

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