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?