God’s Withered Rose Wood
I’m not a rose so withered
my heart can no more ache;
nor have I ceased to will to give
though it’s now my lot to take.
For time has done its number
on my old and dying shell,
but still inside this framework
is a person. Can’t you tell?
A person who once laughed and played
in the sunshine of my youth,
loved and had a family,
raised them in the Truth.
The joys I shared in friendships,
the sorrows shared in loss,
I still desire to share again,
though that avenue seems lost.
I’m imprisoned – could you visit me?
Just let me know you see
that despite my feeble, dying frame,
it’s still worthwhile to know me.
West Texas Juniper
Feel free to contact Chris to inquire about a commissioned sculpture.