I have not grown old–it's just time's autograph scrawled upon my face
This week we big farewell to my 96 year old Aunt Lenora Rose from San Antonio Texas.The family requests me to preside at the funeral and I am honored to do so.Her husband was my Dad's brother, and she is the last of the family to go to Heaven. In her honor I will read this at the Memorial Service in honor of all us Seniors:
The years pile up as crumpled leaves
Beneath Time's falling snow;
And white's the hair of those I love
Once robust steps grow slow.
No hand can stay that marching tide
It's swift and eagle sure;
Upon dear faces once so young
Time scrawls its signature.
But Time has no way to write
His name upon the soul;
Beneath this shell which houses me
God reigns with full control.
Don't judge me by my graying hair
Nor by my careworn face.
This shell you see is sure not me
It's just my resting place.
No more will Time make halt the step
Or white the shining hari;
As ageless as the hand of God
——–I'll live forever there.