Whispers

In the dusting of snow brushed from the roof,

In the leafless swaying of these winter trees,

In the strange silence of such empty roads,

I hear the whisper of your song, touch your breath.

Did I send you away?

Have I asked you to be gone?

See how I wait, look far along the road,

Imagine you in a hundred faces,

Wishing you into shapes that cannot be you,

Thinking that perhaps you approach.

Why are you gone?

For love is not a second, not a casual trick.

Hope is not a candle to be blown out.

Living should not be an accidental thing,

But a walking and a carrying on.

For our songs still remain and our words are warm

And the way awaits us and does not seek one alone,

But a couple who know how to laugh

Lovers who heard creation sing

And children of God who might journey on until the end.