Will You Be There

Should early morning sunrise skip A day or two and nighttime stars All disappear from view, would you Be there to hold my quaking hand? When cherubic celestial wings Begin their white, feathery molt And fall to earth as virgin snow Will you be down below with me To warm and tender through the storm? If all laughter turned to sadness And music sounds on Mans deaf ears Will we ever hear our laughter Once the teary, tidal waves’ Incursion floods our precious shore?