Regrets and hope for redemption
Stumbles On The Way
Like pages of a favorite book, the leaves of time drift by,
Impossible to grasp and hold, like breezes or a sigh.
The faces from the halls of mem’ry visit when I sleep,
The dreams persist and haunt me in the morning’s stealthy creep.
My heart was broken once or twice, I answered in return,
Met many a dainty offer with a callous, thoughtless spurn.
Perhaps regrets that haunt me now will serve as meager pay
For sins of youth that I must answer for on Judgment Day.
Like those who err and then must stand before a mighty seer,
I seize upon a miracle that softens all my fear:
A gentle soul died on a cross so that on Judgment Day
A fool can be redeemed despite his stumbles on the way.