Paul wrote so many years ago
that his "love lay waiting, silently,"
but I've got something on him:
my love may be waiting,
but not laying,
and certainly not quietly:
she'll have a big brass band,
and she'll turn out half the land,
when she learns that
I'm on my way home,
tired of being alone,
making my way to her,
looking for that harbor she provides:
safe, snug and secure;
elation will fill all Creation,
when she leads that celebration,
when my love dances
her waiting time away,
and welcomes me home one day.

March 31, 2009.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

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