An Old Solace

By John Herlihy

An old solace endures;

A lost courage that cures.

Like an old tree in the ground,

The roots reach deep down.

Not all the way dark yet;

Twilight has not fully set.

All the light left in the day,

Still has a quiet word to say.

Life often brings us to the edge;

Some lingering hope to allege.

The day is not always for weeping;

The night is not always for sleeping.

I lay down tallying the effort of my day

What did I produce and what did I pay.

I am not one to boast of this or that,

Nor do I have an attitude of tit-for-tat.

I wrap the day up into a simple package,

A gift left over from the day’s wreckage.

All things that needed doing now done,

To rely on myself, not on any other one.

For some, only a cold solace life assures;

For me, an old solace that simply endures,