I stand beside you,
Every Sunday,
honored as your friend.
I have watched you
watch her die,
try not to cry
and Praise The Lord in all.
‘Can get awful lonely,’ you said.
Now isn’t that the truth.
A Sunday hug to say I care.
Glad, so glad ,to find you there,
in Worship , every Sunday.
Standing crooked, frail, and white,
grinning,‘Hey girl, you alright?’
So real, and unpretentious.
Sometimes a tear escapes your eye,
I pat your hand, and hear you sigh,
raise your face up to the sky,
'Thank you.'
All the thanks, dear man, are mine,
For knowing one so truly Fine.
A Gentle Knight,
The real McCoy,
Living Sorrows,
Shining Joy.
One day soon
I know you’ll be,
Praising God Eternally.
I will so miss your Gracious smile.
So very blessed, the little while,
I got to be your friend.
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