Of Royalty and Robes

The paling sky has flung afar

Her robe that wore the evening star

And as She tossed its shroud away

Tomorrow then became today

Yester-morning’s mystery

Is now our latest history

The boys and girls of earth it seems

Are one day closer to their dreams

And now upon time’s sheer-less tide

A virgin ream of hours preside

Before Her gleaming gown is clenched

And its allowances are quenched

Here on earth’s porch beneath the sky

Our dearest hope should be to try

To take from heaven’s out-stretched hand

Her cloth, then do the best we can

For soon her gleaming filament

Returns the threads that Time has lent

Enfolding it to Past for aye

As today becomes yesterday

 

She never wears a hand-me-down

Each day a new and unsoiled gown

We ought to treat Her Royalty

With respect and humility

© Janet Martin

 Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. Ps. 90:12