My mother? I miss her. You don't know how much

with hugs, warm and loving, with her gentle touch.

And father, not perfect, had sure done his best.

Together, in Heaven, they in His arms rest.

---

Interpreting thoughts that were mine with my weeping,

on wee branch up high, a young sparrow was keeping.

With sharp and loud chirping, I felt ever small.

It ripped me to pieces when I heard it all.

Then, when it had finished, it flew out of sight -

and it left a message, quite brutal, but right -

when I heard, "You're fake - a great imitator,

forgiven by God, your Maker, Creator."

My eyes had welled up with tears of repentance -

with close fam'ly ties and those times of remembrance.

Though precious, the mem'ries I wouldn't exchange,

those days were but hist'ry that I couldn't change.

It sure got me thinking. Oh, how could it be,

I thought not of others - but only of me?

Those years have all passed and are not coming back.

They shook up my heart like a massive attack.

I now see the world and sparrow in tree -

and even myself now so dif-fer-ent-ly.

Priorities changed now that I've been set straight

by that little, lone sparrow I started to hate.

But I thank God's sparrow that perched in the tree,

which brutally, honestly uncovered me -

exposing my selfishness, failures and sin.

Repentant, forgiven, I'll see them again.

©2015 louis gander