Rodney

When your mother left,
I took her place.
You...as a young child,
Visioned her...within my face.

How I sat there sewing,
And worked from a stool.
For you...and your brothers,
To wear back to school.

How hungry at mealtimes,
You were...on the farm.
How you carried in willows,
To keep us all warm.

How you laughed in your youth,
In a joyous way.
How in worn out britches,
You tromped in the hay.

Remember...the model T Ford,
Whose purring was real?
How it turned at the corner,
With your hands on the wheel?

You were a right-hand man,
As you grew and matured.
In knowing how to do,
You were fully assured.

The pleasures of your living,
Have brought you the sweet.
Away from the chaff,
You have gleaned for the wheat.

Life...had much to offer,
Abounding trials were often rough.
You sensed the dangers of deception,
And counted blessings...as enough.

Yes...Rodney...we'll not turn away,
Nor will we bow our heads in grief.
But we'll go on in ways rejoicing,
Happy for your sweet relief.

In the meantime...we'll be searching,
And wait to glimpse that holy place.
Where we can gain a high perception,
To lift our eyes...and seek your face.


E.P. 1908 - 1989

Wood Miller's pocket watch.