Owen Suffolk - Untitled 3

Nothing seems changed; here's the oaken chair, <br />That every night I knelt beside, <br />As I whispered to God the simple prayer <br />I learned from my mother when I was her pride. <br />The old familiar things of then, <br />Unchanged, are beautiful still to the now; <br />But I am transformed in heart, and when <br />Will guilt ever cease to shadow my brow? <br /><br /><br />Owen Suffolk<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/untitled-3-2/