When I am gone, my home shall be your heart
Amongst other hallowed places I once roamed,
Ensconced in bosom true, never apart,
Together we shall walk upon the brome.
When you look out across a prairie grand
Or at the Rocky Mountains purpled grey,
Boreal forests vast in proud command
Or golden fields soft temperate winds do sway;
There you will see me, face to burning sun
Or softly melting into stands of trees,
Above the tree line, victory nearly won—
Or wandering foothills like some errant breeze.
Your quickened breast will tell you I am near,
And we together have but god to fear.
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.