Old Friend (Untitled)

In the gloom and gray of a wet Sunday afternoon
I wept and died for the loss of youth
And the passing of old friend and past glories
For the promise of a brilliant future
And hopes still glorious and innocent
And then I remembered you old friend
You, and the myriad joys and triumphs that don’t decay
The child who built magic castles in the clouds and sat on a swing and sang.
Suddenly the sun was shining again.
The trees blossomed before my eyes
And Peace and the Love of God had conjured
the agony and all the grief was gone.

by Lorna Bain — December 29th, 1985