edge of a flower

She has wandered far from faith

far from a  day when her world

folded within  a sweet Holy song;

followed  heels of an old priest

the old church, the whole family

layered like the ages of Earth

far from belief

where now we seem to be fools in folly

when death takes love and

time leaves us empty.

Time is a perfecting tide

come to erase random prints on shore

a choice remains -within us,

in the strength given our arms-

do we rise…or drown

She has wandered far from me

and I grieve, as in those takings,  

a wall like finality, separations

that bar another word, another

kiss; and recall when she sang

that little song of great faith for me.

Sweetness of a child in the apse,

an inheritance of hope…

wandered far….Now I must

have faith for two, reflect hopes of many. The love

that comes after tears, after the leavings, after

echoes of  door close

 She has wandered far,

while I hold a faith in happiness-

like the edge of a flower - and wait.