There is coming a day
When all knees shall bow
And all disbelief go away
As we worship our King
In His glorious throne,
And the Bride with the ring
Put back on her finger.

Kicked off my tennis shoe
Sat back in a white plastic chair
With a bit of gum to chew.
Then I closed my eyes,
And let my mind go free,
And I dreamed of the skies
In which grace was a color
More beautiful than ever,
And even the greatest scholar
Couldn’t understand, but
Just basked in its glorious
Light, praising the One for what
He had done to set us free.
It’s a color none can describe.

She holds the child to her breast
Gently stroking the girl’s hair,
And wipes the tears off round cheeks.
Her words soft, as if not to scare
The trembling little two year old
Any more than she has already been.
She says, “I love you,” and gives a kiss.
The girl sniffles and tucks her chin,
Shivering and nodding with a sniffle.
Then she says, muffled by the hair,
A fierce, “I love you, too, mommy.”

A child with dreams,
A teen with habits,
A man with trials,
A father with battles,
A grandfather with love.