Empty Pockets

What shall I take along my way. I haven’t much to bring.
With hope, a song shall fill my heart if birds no longer sing.
With luck, I’ll have the warmth of sun to soothe my soul once more.
My days are now so numbered . . . life may close my open door.

I must bring my sincerity. It’s much too late to lie.
For love, it’s said, is something that your money just won’t buy.
I hope to keep my memories to dream these nights away.
And pray for courage soon to face the dawn of my last day.

I’d like to walk with peace of mind and think I’ve done my best,
then sleep in quiet comfort as my soul shall seek its rest.
I’ll take contentment knowing how I’ve loved my family true.
And take my greatest gift of all . . . that they have loved me too.

I’ll find my way to heaven’s gate where stars must brightly shine.
But empty pockets hold no gifts to give the one divine.
The gift of life he gave me . . . I was nothing once before.
With this I can so surely say . . . I need for nothing more.

I’ve packed no bag and fear that what I bring is not enough.
But little did I know my road was going to be this rough.
So many who are worthy shall be first to enter in.
I realize I’m not like they . . . who hardly ever sin.

I’ve only love to give him just as he has given me,
And beg he’ll grant forgiveness for my lack of purity.
As I grow near . . .  no gates appear . . . Just one so meek and mild.
Then reaching for my hand he whispered . . . “Welcome home my child.”

I reached into my pocket while my tears soon fell like rain.
Then knowing I’d no gift to give,  he felt my every pain.
“You loved me as your family.  My road like yours was rough. 
With only love to give me . . . you have given quite enough.”
 

​

 

Bob Sulier
2020