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?