Not My Time - January 12, 2011

Not My Time

The grass bowed in the quiet evening

While five hundred children

Stood by like lambs.

Awaking a symbol of love

With their smiles.

The sweetest sound broke forth

To cheer the stars above

While the children all lit candles

For every nation

I could hear a drum resound

Like flowers by a meadow stream

Such grace was revealed

When at last I could see their faces

There I fell to the ground

And began to dream

In my dream I followed the children

Into the coldest winds

Wondering if I would die, following love

Then soon the sweetest weight

Proved to be light

A burden was lifted from my fearful heart

With such gladness I was filled

When the cold winds led to a pathway

Where the souls gone before

Now quietly lived

I charged ahead of the children

To meet the ones I loved

But like flowers by a meadow stream

I was held in place

By the hands of precious time

I awoke crying on the grass that bowed

In the quiet evening

Where five hundred children once stood

Wiped a tear from my eye and smiled

As I lit my own candle of love

Copyright *Neva Flores @ 01/11/11