Abba

pathI wrote another poem that I thought was decent enough to share. Enjoy or not as you like. 🙂

 

 

 

ABBA

They walk side by side

Down an old, narrow path.

A man with a little girl clinging on to his hand.

His face is in shadows and cannot be seen,

But hers is alive with smiles and joy.

She swings the man’s hand as she skips by his side,

Smiling up with a childlike trust.

“Abba,” she calls him

As they walk on together.

 

They walk side by side

Down an old, narrow path.

A man with a teenager holding on to his hand.

His face is in shadows and cannot be seen,

Bur hers, though anxious, shines still with joy.

Her grip now is slack, and her step now is slow,

Smiling up, though fear plays on her brow.

“Abba,” she still calls him

As they walk on together.

 

They walk side by side

Down an old, narrow path.

A man with a young woman clinging on to his hand.

His face is in shadows and cannot be seen,

Bur hers, though sorrowful, is covered with joy.

She clings to his hand like she cannot let go,

Smiling up with eye full of longing.

“Abba,” she breathes

As they walk on together.

 

They walk side by side

Down an old, narrow path.

A man with a woman holding on to his hand.

His face is in shadows and cannot be seen,

Bur hers, lined with care, radiates joy and contentment.

She grips the man’s hand with all of her might,

Smiling up through eyes full of love.

“Abba,” she still calls him

As they walk on together.

 

They walk side by side

Down an old, narrow path.

A man with an old woman holding on to his hand.

His face is in shadows and cannot be seen,

Bur hers, now aged, shines with smiles and joy.

Her grip still is strong, though her movements are feeble,

Smiling up with a still, quiet trust.

“Abba,” she whispers

As they walk on together.

 

On a great, golden throne,

Surrounded by angels,

He sits, the woman kneeling down at his feet.

He is surrounded by glory and cannot be seen,

But her face is alight with true joy and met hope.

She bows at his feet in humble submission,

Smiling up with adoring and awe.

“Abba!” she calls him

As they rest there together.

 

Inspired in part by A. Andrew Joyce’s post by the same title. With thanks to J. Grace Pennington for helping with the last line.

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