I hear a sound, I think it’s rain
It pings against my window pane
Each droplet falling one by one
Like staccato echoes everyone
The drip, drip, dripping that I hear
Sounds like a trumpet on my ear
Crescendo rising to its peak
With no one there who dares to speak
The silence of the night is lost
There’s no one left to count the cost !
The dark descends upon my soul
I query if I’ve met my goal
I cannot know until the end
If I have been both foe and friend.
For in my passion I have found
At times we all may run aground
I never meant to lose my way
And I have nothing more to say,
Except that God is always there
In peace or war or bleak despair
And pray His grace be with us all
If we survive or if we fall !
There is a basket that sits on a shelf nearby
Full of ideas that failed as other hopes did die
It holds the remnants of the life that I desired
When time was young and no special talent required.
There in that simple basket rests a thousand schemes
Amongst the fabric, ribbons, needles, plans and dreams
Pieces of wood, paper, cotton, wishes and bows
All of them part of a past that nobody knows.
The basket is silent, it never had a voice
Like those who filled my life yet never made a choice
Each has their secret cache that only they control
And each at last decides what is their final goal !
I have travelled the road and seen the light
In the early dawn or on darkest night
I have wandered far from the common way
And wondered where was it I’d gone astray.
Well I pondered long and I queried hard
And the answer I heard was a mixed card
The truth is always about the right take
God teach me how not to make a mistake !
| M | T | W | T | F | S | S |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |
| 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |
| 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 |
| 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 |
| 29 | 30 | 31 | ||||
Claire V. Bogdanos 