Doubt

The sun will rise again, it will:
tomorrow morning, in the east.
The clock will not stand dead and still;
time will trudge on, the way it has
for centuries, without a word
of doubt. The seasons will revolve
from spring, to winter, when the birds
will fly to warmer climates.
And you, my dear, you will awake
to smell the frosty Christmas air,
and feel the icy first snowflakes
which settle on your auburn locks.
And you will look out on the stars,
which have for years and years shone down,
their twinkling light, come from afar
to guide us through the night.
The leaves will fall: red, brown and gold -
a shower - as they've always done,
and you'll walk through; cheeks flushed with cold.
You'll jump and skip your way to school
(to which, as children do, you'll go,
tomorrow and for some years yet.)
This little fact i truly know
will happen, sure enough.
And one day you will leave me here
and off, into the unknown world.
But yet, I will not shed one tear -
my baby's flight would always come.
And church bells will be chiming, Sunday:
merry tunes for God above
and I will go to work on Monday
just like all the others.
I know too well you hate this world:
its logic you cannot make out;
but you are just a little girl
whose clouded thoughts are filled with doubt.
Just gaze up at that starry sky
when innocent eyes give in to tears.
On what is true you can rely-
never give up hope.