That Time Borrows

So many bright tomorrows have crept by becoming lost. So many sorrows to gather in boxes that time borrows from earth’s storehouses with no reply. I sense the memories giving ride to you— the compass of your journey turning north with white hibiscus blossoms sending forth spirit-peace that flowers into rescue. Darkness enters slowly to the garden, with candlelight we’ll make this evening shine. Come out with me to share a loaf of bread, what’s lost we’ll leave to heaven to pardon. We’ll drink to life and lift a glass of wine–– let be awhile––the prophecies we dread.