A year is quite the strangest thing;
To mark our lives with the changing of seasons,
By a calender of months, which pass us by;
Keeping count of days, and naming them names...
Rising with mornings,
sipping tea at noon;
and playing music, on into the night...
I love our years, and I treasure our days,
Ever aware we do not belong,
Just renting a little piece of the Earth for a while,
Until we can go home, to our Father.
In the meantime I am here with you,
Marking my life with the changing of seasons,
With calenders and days which pass so swiftly by;
Rising with you, and with mornings,
(hoping I'm) sipping tea with you at noon...
And still my escape, from every day's challenge,
Is coming home to you.
Is laughing at our lives, and loving all we can,
and playing music, on into the night.
- Happy new year!
to all who read this here,
In my heart held dear.