Of course, I could be wrong;
It happens all the time,
But I recall the song
Which God sang in His prime.
A pure and simple air
He hadn’t done before,
It echoed everywhere,
From shore to golden shore.
And, ever since that day,
I’ve longed to catch that tune,
But, listen as I may,
I haven’t heard God croon.
It’s not that He’s gone cold;
It’s just that I’m so old.
Photo by Danie Franco on Unsplash
