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Not My Home
The curtains may be mine just now,
And pictures on the wall.
But I’ll not be the only one
Who’ll whisper in this hall.
The rooms are lit by visages:
Both wide-eyed looks and smiles.
But we will take them with us,
When we travel other miles.
So I’ll display my memories
From all the lands I roam.
In case I should forget one day…
This house is not my home.
This hair is brown. Or is it gray?
These eyes—a speckled green.
The features show the young and old
Which I am caught between.
A quiet transformation taking
Place throughout the years.
The fresh replaced with something worn
Through laughter, pain, and tears.
Recount the change of which You speak
Within Your Sacred Tome.
In case I should forget one day…
This frame is not my home.
Oh, the things I dearly love
So many can be found
On skies, and seas, and held in hands,
And faces scattered ‘round.
I thank You for the gifts You give
And bless You when you take.
Though I may writhe within Your Hands
I know there’s no mistake.
Grant glimpses of Your Haven midst
My time here on this loam.
In case I should forget one day…
This world is not my home.
RJS, 12/30/2008
This entry was posted on Dec 30, 2008 at 06:09 pm by mrs_r_schermer and is filed under A day in the life....
