He was past his prime
Sitting lonely,
on a bench, at a park
Watching the squirrels , from afar
Pigeons pecking hungrily, near by
children playing happily, side by side.

The sweet smell, of blossoming flowers
Fill the air, all around him
Along with the fresh, rain showers
And angelic voices of hymns.

As he watched, a young couple
Holding hands, walking by
With sparkling eyes and gentle kisses
The memories, made him cry.

He too remembered
The love of his younger days
In wonderful moments passed
Which will never fade away.

She was unlike, any other love
Some say she was an angel, from above
Filled with an affectionate passion divine
He thanked the Lord, for the memorable sign.

As he relaxed, gently closing his eyes He sees a bright light,
coming from the sky
With a familiar face, to excort him
To his God and beautiful sight.

By: Wlliam Bonilla
8/1i/03