I miss the Eastern window
Where the summer sunlight streams
The bright blue banners hanging
From the solid ceiling beams
I miss the colored cushions
On the well-worn wooden pews
But I mostly miss the people
Singing songs that I once knew
From the Soil of Sadness
I would never say that losses
Occur because they should
But from the soil of sadness
We can often grow some good
I’d never tell a friend
That bad things happened for a reason
But remember that from darkness
There will come another season
Emily Adkins Bostian 