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Beside Her Bed
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


 

Beside Her Bed

 

Upon a ward beside her bed

Our hands entwined as one

Remembering the day we wed

The joy, the laughs, the fun

 

Recalling times we spent apart

Her voice upon the phone

The aching feelings in my heart

The emptiness alone

 

The joy much felt within her arms

Within those eyes so bright

Succumbing to her wondrous charms

A wonderful delight

 

Now lying like a wilted rose

Sweet fragrance wrapped in death

My love for her still grows and grows

With every aching breath

 

How radiant her aged face

Each wrinkle on her brow

Will God resign, or show us grace?

Will Jesus heal her now?

 

Looking within her lovely eyes

Our lives were not in vain

Thank God for Christ who makes one wise

And helps us bear the pain

 

Yet if God plans to take her now

Through faith remaining sure

Though for a while to sleep we bow

We’ll rise through Heaven’s Door

 

Then health restored in Christ alive

Arrayed in Heaven’s blaze

United in our love we’ll thrive

Through grace eternal days.....


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Submitted: Thursday, May 7, 2015

Last Updated: Thursday, May 7, 2015

About the Poet
I never wrote a word of poetry in my life. Till the day Jesus took my hand and touched my soul.....I invite your response. However most poems are not about me! Very few are. But the feed-back good, bad or indifferent is always desired. Not meant to offend, but I write about many things in many a guise. Of life, death, lost, found, saved, backsliders, new comers, repenting souls, doubting hearts, heathens, Christians, fire, water, Satan's daughter, wallowing in sin, saved, made sound walking in Light, graceful righteous. Suffering, ecstatic, bored, excited, sad, delighted, Sick, well, lame, able, living, dying, etc. etc. etc. Writing about anything, everything and everyone as the spirit leads. All meant to reveal, waken, revive, encourage, shame, help. Gladden, pick up, exalt, portrait, liberate. Again over 99% of my work is not about me. Although at times I write as though I were or am. Speaking e.g. in the first person. This is quite common even in the bible itself. Prophets speak of themselves, then God speaks, again the prophet, then God......Quite often it's difficult to distinguish whom it is that at any given time is speaking or narrating.


Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

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