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.
Only cold solace for some that life assures;
An old solace for me that simply endures,