I am truth
in its most natural form;
I have brothers and sisters who are
tho just as true.
I sometimes stand alone
bringing the romantic eye
back to reality.
I sometimes stand together
with my siblings,
and remind the eyes of
Some fear.
The site of me can
elicit dread,
make old men weep,
and the young prepare
for the truths I bear.
My many bare arms do not welcome,
my fingers are as crooked
as a hags,
but I am not a monster;
I am truth.
I am what is to come.
Read the signs
and be young in your heart,
for in other times
I can be deceitful.
Know me now, see me,
for I am the truth
in its most natural form…

© L. Rose (11-6-94)

I wrote this on the return trip from visiting my cousin Barb in Minnesota in the fall.