I hope it's not in Summer
When comes my call to go,
For Summer's when I garden
And help the flowers grow.

I cannot go in Autumn
When color is in sway;
It's much too nice in Autumn ---
No time to be away.

And surely not in Springtime
With all the fresh young blooms;
Dear Lord, You would not want me
To miss those sweet perfumes.

And that leaves only Winter . . .
But Winter's when I ski,
So that would not be very
Convenient, Lord, for me.

It seems that there is really
No time that's opportune . . .
I know it's YOUR decision . . .
Just not, good Lord, too soon!

| Return to Poetry Index |
| Seniors-Site Homepage | E-Mail | Site Master |