( I always miss this after we return home, back to the rigorous and relentless rush of duty)
As morning unfolds from sky-rivers of gold
And dawn wears a garment of glistening dew
As yesterday sleeps in past’s infinite deeps
We cradle those heart-tugs of ‘missing-you’
And as the day breaks over valleys and lakes
Chasing night-shadows from earth’s avenue
As morning-song drips from hope’s refurbished lips
We sense seasoned heart-tugs of ‘missing you’
The hour of noon is upon us too soon
Laughter and loving and loss ramble through
The rooms of the heart painting life's ether art
A harvest in heart-tugs of ‘missing you’
Dusk spreads its robe over Time’s little globe
We gather, small beneath daylight’s adieu
And all we can keep as we labor and sleep
Are those precious heart-tugs of ‘missing you’
© Janet Martin
Most serious conversations happen at the most unexpected moments. Such was the case as I drove my son to a friend's house early this morning. He said he thinks we are living in Time's most wicked days so these must be the 'last days'...surely they must be, I replied, yet none of us knows how long these' last days' will tarry...and love for this boy, almost man wrenched my heart, as I prayed there and then that he may grow up strong in the Lord.
That pic has the look of an eye to me.
ReplyDeleteYes, it does. It was so cool!
ReplyDelete