Twas just a thing like Eden
That slipped from off your face,
White lilies short in season,
God's best and fallen grace.
Birdsongs greet the morning
Then quickly take to flight,
There's pain in late becomings
Through the dim and fading light.
Tis short though, the price to open
The weight of Heaven's door,
To mend what time has broken
Returning home to love once more!
R.