Slow Times
I like the slow times . . .
When all the work is done,
And evening shadows creep
Across the fields;
When somber trees
Stand still and wait . . .
For darkness to descend.
I like the slow winds . . .
That stir the waters
With their playful hands,
And send their ripples
To bathe the tired feet
Of giant firs, that stand . . .
In watch along the shore.
I like the slow trains . . .
That climb the hills
With plaintive, lonely wails;
And send their echoes
Searching through the night,
For sleepy little towns . . .
That lie along their paths.
I like the slow days . . .
When all the time is mine,
And fantasies and dreams
Come calling on my mind;
And anxious thought
Stand still and wait . . .
To repossess my mind.
I like the slow walks . . .
When evening shadows fall,
When times we spend alone
Are silent hours
Of listening to our hearts
Whispering words of love . . .
That only God can hear.
I like the slow times . . .
When you are by my side.
Copyright © William Crocker | Year Posted 2011
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