A Kindred Spirit

A man stood upon a moss covered hill He wrestled with his sorrow, testing his will His hand held a very tiny blue bouquet Mingled there was a little bit of a hey He held his hand over his heart, bowed his head He was lonesome, yet not filled with dread The bouquet was placed gently upon the mound The chirping of the bluebirds the only sound His soul was saddened, yet his heart was afire with love He knew that God was taking care of her far above He wiped tears from his cheeks, arose quietly He turned once more, quietly he walked away