Missing You, Papa G.
The riverbank was always where
Your soul felt most at peace
Your heart was most content when there
With the fish and the geese
But now, your spirit has come to rest
Where angels choose to roam
I’m sure it won’t take long before you
Make yourself at home.
The sky will become your deep blue sea
The clouds become your shore
And there, for all eternity
You’ll fish with friends galore
Each angel is a fisherman
Who has traded in his pole
For golden wings and a game plan
At Heaven’s Fishing Hole.
The tales you’ll tell about each catch
Its stature and its girth
Will live in memories unmatched
As days pass here on earth
Until we meet again, one day
Upon God’s golden sand
I’ll picture you, no other way
Than with a pole in hand.
A piece of the puzzle, a post from my Auntie’s blog.