Piercing rays of Sunshine
Thawed the chill some
And I shed my black cashmere scarf
With subtle silver stripes,
A birthday gift from ma,
Dear departed,
Who loved God
And wanted to preach on Sundays
Like Jimmy Swaggart
Or Bennie Hin

She'd write checks
Of a thousand or more....
'For The Lord,' she'd say
'They are doing The Lord's work!'

And I smiled like the Saturday  morning sun
Over Canarsie;

My tearful tide had crested on Friday at sorrow's peak;

And I stared at the clear blue heavens,
Scanning the clouds
For the smiling face of a new angel
Who loved God
And wanted to preach on Sundays
Like Jimmy Swaggart
Or Bennie Hin

My grieving eyes soon  found
A solitary bird,
Wings askew  and waving,
Dashing with childish glee
Through the skies above...

A whistling dove,
Or skylark,
Or perhaps the mariner's albatross;

Her work on earth was done...

'Twas time to fly...

In Paradise

~ P (#attf)
10/31/2013