In Peace

Comes the word with sorrow imbued

Soft and dark – so somberly hued

It’s hard to remember at such times

That a friend has gone to sunnier climes.

“Accept the loss; begin to rejoice,’

Gently uttered in an angel’s voice.

“I’ve come to take him home with me;

Forevermore his soul will be free.”

Nevertheless, such a void is left

That we cannot help but feel bereft.

Later, later, as time moves on

We may accept that our friend is gone.

But for the present, the heart is torn

And we find ourselves forlorn

And yet - I wonder: Is there a reason

His time came now, at Easter Season?

His gift was the noblest any man could give:

He died in order that others might live.

© 3/26/2005 Thurman P. Woodfork

In Memory of Joseph Milanese