Beneath The Oleander
Time fell soft beneath the pinkness of oleander
as to the arms of loves endeavor lifting her ever so gentle.
Her hair was thinning and as white as new fallen snow
And she within her spirit so humble was silently crying.
Her sharp clear mind bore a recollection of the days her of youth.
And she tasted of its glory, but to alas now to touch the petal of time.
For now she sings dirges of dark recitation that came upon infirmities call.
Yet it is to this day and unto the testament of this life,
Which comes forth an eternal hope; void of all struggle and strife.
It is now unto a promised gleaming star to which we all in hope do cling.
One in which we shall gladly rejoice and forever in joy sing.
Reveling now always unto the deliverance of our true and everlasting love.
Reveling now always in the happiness that our new days now bring.
Rejoicing as it blossoms forth in all of its promised glory
from beneath the tender branch of the oleanders tree.
J. Allen Wilson © Four 2006