BEFORE MY ANGELS CALL

BEFORE MY ANGELS CALL

Morning sunshine, come to my window, have a glimpse of me,
And take a look at my lover fair, who stalwartly walks beside me.

All along life’s thoroughfares, here, there, and everywhere.
We rise with praise for each new day, and send our troubles on their way.

Afternoon sunshine, perch on my windowsill dying.
Sing me a love song from this sorry world,
Bright and strong like a thunderbolt hurled,
Straight from the forehead of mighty Zeus,
And with my warring demons I at last will call a truce.

Evening sunshine, appear on my doorstep,
Serenade me with vigor, with vim and with pep,
And wake me from an early sleep,
And send a final volley across the mountain steep.

Season my old age like a vintage salt shaker,
Remind me that I have a date with my Maker.
That the close of life, alas, can be as precious as the first,
Come, oh, come, thou evening sun, and gently quench my thirst.

Before the final rains do fall, before my blessed angels call,
Morning sun, I beg thee, noontime sun I plead with thee,
Evening sun, I implore thee, come once more to my window.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2009
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED