Two men in a box
A cube of some sort
Words from the Father
Heard, without retort
Puzzled and distorted
Souls broken and bent
Both are the same
Unrighteous, I meant
Twain both residing
What makes the change?
From lost to now pardoned
A new heart, in exchange
One leaves the box
In forgiveness, how odd?
What made the difference?
Well amazed, it was GOD
You see, it’s HIS will
That cures of this pox
For GOD is still GOD
Even in your box
She closes her eyes, drifts away
Eyes flickering as she dreams
Memories of things, bought to mind
Of kind whispers, it would seem
A time that now, recalls a smile
Of something, no one ever “new”
Would remember, from long ago
A recollection, of only you
Rocking there with grey hair down
The peaceful Southern breeze
Recalls with warmth, within her voice
Of a name, now said with ease
Past and Present the line now blurred
Between smiles, corners to edge
A not so common beautiful thought
And a not forgotten pledge
Would hope all others, shared such dreams
That appoints the heart to melt
Reposed in shadowed love, so sweet
And a passion, she has ever felt
