Still
By repomen79
Bring forth beloved, bereft ye be. For one still moment in eternity. A picture much deeper than the face you see. For the wait and the weight and the way it must be. Morning matters much, I mean. The moment shines so clear and keen. As though its ending never seen here in the window where she used to lean. Now clinging clumsy closing lid. That from our sight her face be hid. The broken heart would not be rid. Of grief that love does not forbid. My spirit pleads, she has not died. She loves and lives deep down inside. Upon the wound, a balm applied. Healing sustained and sorrow denied. Hear my tears, my sorrow grows. Time dissappears and no one knows. Rest beside in sweet repose. A forever stream that eternally flows. I bind the hand that held the light. And call her name in the dead of night. I dream of her in robes of white. Calling me from the edge of sight. Just one still moment, my despair, Though all creation pauses there. To weep the everlasting prayer. To the empty sky, and the still still air.I do, I did, I always will. I loved you then and love you still. For Ellen M. Patterson 1955_1986 Written January 19th, 2002 © on Jan 19 2002 07:49 AM PST, Patric Patterson 18 • 0 • 1
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"Bring forth beloved, bereft ye be...."