In The Years Of Trial Poem by DM W

In the years of trial, something fragile in me died.
My soul turned to flint; hardened by experience
And bitter winds of time. I searched for healing signs.
I tried to recall dreams of childhood innocence.
Now, thankfully, those bleak days and nights have passed by,
And now I'm free of a thousand, wintry sorrows.
I sense the rich beauty deep within the world's eyes,
And look forward to the warm joys of tomorrow.