Friday
When the sky turned
From deepest inky black
To daylight once more….
When the hewn remnants
Of that curtain were
Pulled down to be repaired….
When the cross was
Once more empty
The nail holes all that’s left….
When the sponge and spear
Were gathered up
And taken into store….
When the stone was
Rolled into it’s
Final resting place….
When the scattered friends
Gazed at the evening’s
Setting sun….
When the spices were
All sorted and
Whispered plans were shared….
No comments:
Post a Comment