A Time To Sing

A Time To Sing

To me, the saddest thing to hear
Are tales of those sorry folks
Who’ve spent their busy lives in fear
Of showing love when needed most.

Too late, too late their praises came
With no one left to trust
Or hear while living, the words aflame
That fell on ears of dust.

But not so with you my love...
I’ll not wait until from heaven’s porch
You squint, and try from up above
To find a flare from my heart’s torch.

No, today a song comes from my pen
For I can’t but wonder how
A thousand sung in sweetness then
Could equal one sung now.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2006