Poetry

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How well he must have loved you
to call you home to him
how precious in his sight
your smile that would not dim
how sweet your lilac laughter
purpled awe and golden glee
how fine your rumpled tresses -
he will smooth them now, not me.

How well I surely loved you, dear
though I missed our chance to meet
your ruby lips forever mute
an unknown plan did cheat
your angel petals withered
my rose plucked before her bloom
the place of promise deathly still:
an empty, waiting womb.

How well He must have loved you
to take you Home too soon
within my brittle, aching heart
swells a hushed and hopeful tune:
"Wait for me, my little one
till we're joined beyond the breach
just inside His eastern gate
where tears no more can reach."

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