Poetry

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Heading Home


He slumped into the snow and died
Alone, but for the snarling winds
Veiling his final words of life:
“Oh, God! My God!” he cried.

Swaddled within the soft embrace,
Of feathered, wispy crystals,
Shrouded in a chrysalis:
T’was the end of his race.

The boisterous winds became still,
The menacing clouds recoiled;
Stars shone with ethereal light:
It was his Father’s will.

Aloft, his soul began to roam,
As he sought the holy hand
Of his waiting Lord and King:
“My son…you’re welcome home!”

T’is the story of how my dad
Met his lot on an icy road,
He lost control of his car:
Oh Lord, that wreck was bad!

Dad was in the winter of life,
A slower glory-filled pace;
Once a faithful man of God:
His grace bewails the fife.

I miss my dad, mentor and friend
Yet I know he’s home with God
Walking ‘round with his big smile
In the land of no end!

copyright 2009 Jeanne E. Webster



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