When We Again Shall Meet…
Ye ole’ country churches, nestled along the county roads,
I used to know.
Guideposts along the pathway we’d go,
to the homelands in which I root.
The fire station. The park. The smiley face and…
of course, the bow!
We stop at the anti-garden sown of stones,
fallen meticulous in neatly circled rows.
Fearful of my ultimate fate, an’ the moments,
we’d all rather not face.
I long for recall, the warm embrace,
of a cherished soul gone far too soon.
The one that has left that massive void,
in the core of my stony, battered heart.
Your love was one I never cast in genuine doubt,
but ‘tis one in which I sadly missed out,
as you walked amongst us here.
When we again shall meet, may my approach finally bring tear?
Or shall I rush to the One who knew my lonesome turmoil,
and sheltered my every fear?