In Passing

My love, I had a dream that I tried my best to share with you,

Despite my best efforts lover, it appears that

The flowers sit by the door,
withering on the stone cold floor.
You'll grace this place nevermore.

The bed is not made,
no bills

Twilight fades and blossoms wither
Ever drawing a stillness hither
Silence is loud, a beating drum
Signal war now death my

I know that time heals
Yet it drags on so slow
And as much as I miss you
You had to go

I knelt at your bedside
On the cold, tile

One day you were here

And the next you were gone

We all had to stay

And you were called home

God must have had something