eight thousand miles to heaven

The poet knocked one out of the park with this one yesterday, and I had to post it here for those of you who visit this blog and not his other, or Inside Candy

eight thousand miles to heaven

the seasons chase the sun to bow:
it’s your night, my daylight now.
I contemplate, with furrowed brow,
eight thousand miles to heaven.
but distance is a folding thing
that bends to will that we shall bring;
a word, a thought, an halo’d ring.
eight thousand miles to heaven.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.
for Candy. because she deserves it.