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.
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