Time and time again,
sitting in church a woman wonders.
This dream engulfs her,
taking her to her imagination.

Strangers meet on the gift of grass and meadows,
under the deep dark gold arch,
which many dream but never see.
The swift and sweet air surrounds them,
This is something that will be now and forever.

The good, the rich, the poor, the scared,
all meet this stranger eventually.
He proclaims, “Listen to the sweet sound,
which angels bring for you.”
The stinging tears fall down her cheek,
the ashes of youth vanquish now.

We stand facing each other,
“It’s time,
And you, my dear are ready.”

Given heavy rain and sun of the past days,
cobalt flowers bloom bright,
grass has the kiss of emerald,
and death’s sting is present.

The time of hurt is over,
yet she knows,
her faith keeps her strong.