The Lark

I miss you when I wake
From the dark dreams of my night. 
I miss your being there
As the morning streams with light. 

I miss you as I walk
Beside the swift and swollen river.
I feel your loss intensely 
It’s not cold that makes me shiver. 

Where are you now I wonder,
I can’t find you when I search.

I lost you in that springtime
In that faith redeeming church. 

Your lark ascends each morning 
As the sun grows in the sky.
I pray that when I follow
I will find you by and by.



10 thoughts on “The Lark

  1. Roland, your poem is so very beautiful. Woven as from sheer gossamer. Yet your sorrow
    casts a shadow over all the beauty you see. Let your strong spirit fly with that Lark and sustain. Bless.


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  2. Beautiful, as words from the heart always are Roland. I picture your Lark ascending, free in an open sky yet never far away, ever close in precious memory. Thank you for such a personal poem.

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