Summer has been going really well, I went away to a beautiful place called Cornwall . It was a long trip down, but so worth it. The views were unlike anything I had ever seen in the British countryside before, and the clear water beaches were amazing. It was peaceful, serene. I had time to think.

Just before I left, I found out that my very dear friend had gone to be with the Lord. She was 80 and so beautiful, we shared alot together, and she was a light for so many while here. I'm funny like that, I don't mind how old you are. If my heart meets yours, we can be best friends.

If my heart meets yours, and our inner selves connect.

If our eyes meet in love, and our smiles we never forget.

If my mind thinks of you no matter the distance apart.

Your age in truth is irrelevant. For rare is a good heart.

(I wasn't planning to write that, so the next poem is my intentional post for today. And a tribute to my dear friend.)

The Candle Maker

The light will not be chuffed out.

No flicker, no flame, will ever suffer blame-

This cold wind from the open fields,

Will not harm this candle that I shield.

My candle shone, many years went by-

It flickered it flamed. It will not die.

The rain tried to run her away, 

And snow tried to freeze her heat.

The breeze tried to mellow her light -

But, the flame my hands warm will keep.

And even though the light, my eyes no longer can see,

Does not mean the light will no longer be.

My Jesus has taken the candle, to put in His homes lantern.

So though I cannot see it...

Forever her flame will burn.

The Candle Maker took away my candle.

I held her close and dear.

He took her away after a while, and wiped from my eye a tear.

'Why do you take her away?' I say.

'My candle is precious to me.'

"I promise her away for one short day,

In time her light you will soon see."

I miss my candle very much, but the Candle Makers' home is bright.

It's warm flickering array of candles guide me home tonight.

And in His good will one day complete, I'll travel to His home to see;

My candle on His lamp stand meet. Burning. Brightly.

By Lakechia Jeanne ©