Soon our halleluiahs will roll like thunder;
Gladly we will walk, no troubles in our talk;
Now we’re stuck, just hushes and goodbyes,
Too soon for eternity; on it we knock;
Place of opportunity, land of little lies;
Dreams of an Earth rapture into Heaven,
Just a cupped peach on Joshua’s tree;
Its branch God’s hand, curved, no thorn,
No briars or tares but the boasting little horn
Who hisses in hate at what’s on his plate;
Alone in this world is truly when I knew
How I miss you; down the road, soon to come
Are so many hellos, but first comes goodbye;
I wait for you as the stars outwait the sun;
I miss you as a spinster her youthful hopes,
Or as the moon its ocean, continents away.
Don V Standeford
Article Source: http://www.faithwriters.com
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