Unwritten Things

But she had loved unwritten things instead,
I pondered as night’s windows filled with gray
and all the things the rain had left unsaid.

To live not of the heart but of the head
has been my curse, each memo to its tray,
but she had loved unwritten things instead.

That such unlikes, by wry chance, should be wed!
What, in this voiceless autumn’s disarray,
of all the things the rain has left unsaid,

but walks that road, kneels in the flashing red,
as if she would awaken where she lay,
for she had loved unwritten things instead.

Who knows where noon’s flecked sidewalks might have led
had I let schedules look the other way?
And all the things the rain has left unsaid

might have voice still, the A string that was dead,
the improvised sonatas she would play,
for she had loved unwritten things instead,
and all the things the rain has left unsaid.

Written by M Ragland | Source

Advertisements

To Get Home Before It’s Dark

A dearly loved poem, written by Grandpa.

Once I was young and active, and now I am getting old.
My body, once warm and dynamic, now becomes so cold.
I was a child around children, now older folks are near
To be my close companions, to share and help and cheer.

Once I loved to travel distance, and see all kinds of sights.
But now I want to stay close by and be at home at night.
I loved to travel here and there, and life was such a lark,
But now my aim is always to get home before it’s dark!

I took a wife and enjoyed life and worked with all my strength.
We built our home with beauty, going to any length.
We worked and played just every day, resting so sweet at night.
With sparkling eyes we bought supplies and did that which is right.

Then came a child into our home, and then arrived her sister.
And, oh, we were so happy; we hugged and cooed and kissed her.
Now I’m a child again, as I play with our sweet family,
And wife and I again games play, so very warm and happy.

The years roll by, grandchildren come; then quiet is our home.
They’ve moved away, makes long my day, as o’er the earth they roam.
Now since I’m old and weary, and have of life a spark,
I’ll keep Heaven on my mind to get Home before it’s dark!

– Rev. Marion R. Thomas