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HIS ROOM

There was no ceremonial salute for the child that I admired
No fancy cars or limousines, only his presence was required
The night was here and time to sleep, as I lye in wait for unexpected tears
In mornings light I was to cry, for it seemed a thousand years
Without peace within the soul, what good is living?
For life’s requirement left me unprepared, for the soul I was giving
There is a chilling finality, when death raises its ugly hand
Regardless of whom you are or where you might stand
I went to what had been his room so neatly was everything
His bureau was littered with his incredible collection of things
Clothing was neatly put away, his music he skillfully collected
DVD’s stacked by the TV he was careful what he had invested
With so many tears falling from my face
My eyes were drawn to a photograph he had in his special place
A collection of family memories,
and the love he wanted the world to see
Of all the things my young man was, and what he wanted to be
A little boy with balding hair
and a devotion of love that sat in the same chair
Suddenly things seemed so strange, I could here the house was contained with his laughter
The soft and tender touch I was searching after
His laughter led me to an old filing drawer he put special things in
Things that he had last touched that belonged to him
Within its numerous pages was the birth certificate of my firstborn son
I suppose before this I never thought, but that was when my tears had begun
Tears of anger, tears of fears, tears that kept me company through the years
But tears of joy overcame, and made my journey clear
I looked upon his wall and the thing he held most dearly
Was an old painting he called “The Old Ship of Zion” so tenderly
I sat down in his chair and thought how time had flown
How all too quickly time had passed, and my son had grown
Why, it was only yesterday when I held him in my arms
His little head lay on my chest to keep him from any harm
That also made me remember all the scolding’s I had given him
The preachments, the exhortations to virtue and wisdom, I myself did not possess within
I thought too, of that unique articulate smile
And how life turned out to be, he made it a little more worthwhile
I wished that I had somehow expressed more often the love I had for him
And then I thought, what fools we are with our children, always plotting what we shall make of them
Planning for a future that never comes, with the intent on what they may be
Not accepting who or what they are, but what we want to see
So many times I watched as he walked out my door
Going to work or wherever, I won’t see that anymore
I won’t mask my tears with a disguise of content
Or pretend my time here on earth has been well spent
I accept the things I can not change, and envelope the ones that matter
Though each day brings its petty dust and useless clutter
My mind remains in a constant battle to discern the wrong from right
I know that when this battle seizes to be, I’ve lost my greatest fight
Father, to all give strength and courage, to such a weakened being
To sustain the bruises of our flight, that You are constantly seeing
In Jesus Name, Amen

Written and Composed By:
Nancy Bailey-Whitmore-Shields
Copyright © 2008

HIS ROOM

Nancy Shields

Huntington, United States

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Artist's Description

A short story, a poem, one you will read over and over again. Nancy

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