Church of The Nazarene, former Pastor
To die is to dwell in the past.
To live means keeping the past alive,
Bringing it to bear fully on the present,
Shaping a broad and complete future,
Pounding nails until fingers hurt,
Fixing that fort,
Climbing pines' mid-branch's small perch,
A twisted path, in shaded green, my feet began to follow.
Rolling waters, beside a trail, marked ways that I explored.
Scents of pine and fresh new flowers pulled gently at my soul;
My ears renewed by sounds of squirrel-chucks,
Granddaddy's roll-top desk,
Sitting in the back-room Sun,
Memories flow through time,
Some as though they've just begun.