The Lord spoke
and she was stricken from me.
Helpless limbs as branches on a tree,
one silence
and she was taken softly from me.
The needlework of younger days
fell somehow loosely apart.
And picture frames held by stays
talk some words to my heart.
A tapestry of gold and white
sigh circles around my heart.
Glorious stars of the night
remind me we're apart.
Whose majesty can pry this way
and draft out all our lives?
What suffering is this we pay,
a tribute to end our lives?
The Lord spoke.
Pray death is well to meet.
Pray heaven is long and sweet.