Plans
Was this the plan?
The plan of God?
Was every detail meant to come to life?
Even the terror? Even the strife?
These questions fill my head,
As I read each of your dear letters
Before I approach my bed.
Somehow, they make me feel better.
The soothing comfort of your words,
Which I know meant much back then,
Make me wonder this:
“What ever happened to our bliss?”
Your words of love, caring, tenderness,
Spread like dust in the wind.
Now, they escape my grasp,
My fingers sifting through a handful of ash.
We swore to stay.
To be forever near.
I wanted you today,
But you were not here.
We promised life,
We promised love.
Were we not unlike,
The Turtle Doves?
Yet your love has died,
And mine struggles on.
Was this the plan?
The plan of God?