I had spent recent years in mourning, since I had lost someone very dear;
As when pallid moon is hidden by clouds, and bright stars will not appear.
My job as a professor consumed me, and I was happy for its distractions,
Like a pastel rainbow that's created, from mist and sunshine interactions.
My loved ones tried to cheer me up, with their caring words and gestures,
In those whirlwind days, fraught with bright sunshine, roses and lectures.
While empty smiles were ofttimes present, sadness trailed like moments,
Racing down gilt halls of time, faded past behind, and future in suspense.
My friends kept me busy going places, like days and weeks and seasons,
That depart only for a dramatic reunion, like sun and moon, in sequence.
I lived in the house of tangerine mists, where quiet sorrows were hidden,
Like next to last of the original first, of an eternity that comes unbidden.
Neighbors were nice and friendly, though I had not resided there for long;
But long enough to walk the paths of roses, just to hear the redbird song.
Sultry summer at last arrived, when butterflies broke the stillness of noon,
Like jade, golden days, so often disrupted, by sunsets of pink and maroon.
The garden bloomed noon hues, on days a vivid world was at the window,
When everyone was rushing anywhere, like rich scents beneath moonglow.
One beautiful Sunday, I went to church, though I had not been for awhile;
As one looks to the trusted sources, when searching for a reason to smile.
From the outset, the service moved me, speaking to my particular heart,
As we sang and read loved Bible passages, every one hitting their mark!
It seemed that I had been listening, but the words I had not really heard;
Yet, my hearing improved that Sunday, like scents where breezes stirred.
Death is not the end of the world, only the end of the splendid beginning,
Like a colorful loss at golden autumn, though spring just keeps on winning!
Deep meanings that I'd missed, were soon etched upon my heart forever;
And I would carry them everyplace I went, with me through all endeavors.
My tender heart had whispered to me, the spiritual things my mind forgot,
Like the purling brook that chatters on, although the hills and trees cannot.
Hearts are much wiser than we know, and we should listen to them often,
For the harsh realities which we think we know, the heart tends to soften.
These days, my sunny smiles are genuine, because I trust the God I love;
And I know I'll see my dear one someday, when I am summoned up above!