Father—Creation that you’ve made!
Spring’s sweet buds, and Summer’s glade;
Pumpkin’s orange in Fall’s bright pallet,
Forest’s sleep ‘neath Winter’s mallet…
Your seasons teach me lessons stern;
Lessons that, I needs, must learn;
That all year ’round — these changes show,
I must change if I’m to grow!
Why do I fight it? Fists clenched tight…
Why resist with all my might?
…with each new season in my life,
Relentless Change’s pruning knife?
Cutting away the worn, with cost,
And though I weep at what I’ve lost;
Change will not yeild — but cutting still,
Bids me swallow this bitter-pill…
‘Tis not the death of Heaven’s dream…
‘Tis not The Father’s heartless scheme!
But Tender Wisdom from above,
Calling him Home…
Because — he’s Loved!
And so these tears — this Season’s end…
This bitter loss of Beloved Friend;
I will accept because I know,
Change must come… and you must go…
But never forget, how we loved you so!
For My Beloved Prodigal—free at last, July 2016