As I lie upon this bed of death
and reflect upon each rasping breath,
To soon pass to the other side
with the final ebb of my life's tide,
I reminisce with parting thought
on things dear to me I'll miss a lot:

The fruity fragrance of a wine
Pure alpine smell of spruce and pine
Moist smell of earth cupped in my hand
Your heated skin upon the sand
The dribbling melt of chocolate sweets
A passioned tumble in the sheets
Your hair a' scent with apricot
All dear to me, I'll miss a lot.

Your soft caress upon my cheek,
Made steely knees of mine turn weak.
A lilting waltz in warm night air,
My melted heart; your sensuous stare.
The lights upon a distant shore..
These things I'll miss....forevermore.

But soon the Glory train will ride
Make station at my deathbed's side.
The conductor's smile and bearded face
Will glow with countenance of grace.
He'll stretch to me his nail torn palm
And soothe death's pains with loving balm.
Then lift me up without remand,
For first class fare to a promised land.
It's trumpets blare, it's brakes will hiss;
That's something I don't want to miss.

That train will halt at pearl like gates,
Where all who've gone before, there waits.
We'll all embrace with tearful bliss.
Oh man! That's something I can't miss

So as I pen these musing lines,
Other thoughts do now entwine.
Of right and wrong-of joy and sin
My raucous life-then born again.
Thank you Lord, for love divine,
To take an undeserving soul, like mine.
I slip...I slide....Just be my guide.
Please God, I don't wanna miss that ride.

06/27/2007

Posted on 06/27/2007
Copyright © 2024 Fredrich Mohre