Poems

EASTER Mary was a lover. Running to the tomb, She was missing Him, Never expecting In her wildest dreams To see him there Alive. So be a lover. Run.   Run, Missing your Beloved. Run, Always expecting In your wildest imagination To see the Beloved there Alive.   The other day will come Too soon. So run.   And so I run, my Love, To rise with you Each and every day.   I run, my Love, To live with you Each and every day I run, my Love, To love with you Each and every day. Yes, The other day will come Too soon. So I run, my Love.