Before The Flight
Here, in her last days
her mind is cloudy, her body weak
we stroll the gardens
she does not speak
and yet, her hand is raised
to touch a flower, as we gaze
upon the beauty of the day.
Life is fleeting, so they say
and sacred, as we live our days
she is ready for her final flight
if by day or if by night.
Someday, I may be like her
a wilting flower, frail, demure
outside failing, inside pure
each day a gift, tomorrow unsure.
God’s Word says He has ordained
our time on earth, we cannot name
a hidden veil, yet clear to Him
I thank Him for His truth within
and heaven’s gates to guide me in.
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