Oasis

In the sonnet of life, midst the toil and the strife

there stands down in yonder pines

a house made of gold, where all creatures go

to be healed in body and mind.

‘Tis the lady fair with her chestnut hair

who tends to the hungry and weak,

ne’er she turns away those in need or who stray,

for her care is the gift that they seek.

Come, little friend! Your woes I shall mend.

Be not fearful, I mean you no harm,

for I am quite aware of that which you bear,

and I wish not to cause you alarm.

With your paw in my hand, feel the peace of this land

and restore your good nature and will,

for one day with the dawn you shall journey on,

but ’til then be content, take your fill.

In the sonnet of life, midst the toil and the strife,

beneath the bright sun and the pines,

be ye fur or leather, in scales or feathered,

Sanctuary Oasis you’ll find.