He Walked Thirty Miles Today

He walked thirty miles today with her worn and faded picture in his hand.

Alone was he, lost and confused without his grace; a stranger in a strange land.

The dust of the road filled his weary eyes; memories of his grace tore asunder at the tender places of his heart and stole quietly the bliss from his tired mind.

He stopped for a moment along the way; stooping beneath the shade of a sad and lonely little willow tree.

Its branches were dry and withered; much like his soul, and he ever so softly wept.

He held the picture up close to his face; he kissed the graying image of his fallen grace.

Time has carried his feet thus far, as time has stolen his grace from his heart.

He walked thirty miles today and he wept a thousand tears beneath the sad willows shade.

J. Allen Wilson © 11-2007