“The Trysting Place”
(Lovers Meeting Place)
The day was done, the sun had gone to rest,
And in its place bright stars appeared to light the way,
There on an eastern hill the moon arose and spread her silvery light
On hill and vale and set a magic spell,
Can it be fancy that I see a small old fashioned gate,
And leaning on the bar a form that waits
As if to meet some dear one at the gate?
It was not a maiden fair, as first I thought;
Her hair was snowy white, her form was bent,
And from her lips and cheeks the bloom of youth was spent,
And in its place a look of faith and sweet content.
It seems as if she did commune with someone near.
I listened and this is what she said,
“This is our meeting place, it was here we met,
And pledged our troth to walk life’s path together.
And be true whatever betide, in fair or stormy weather.
And then she paused and whispered low, “Yes dear, I understand.
Our Father called you home and I was left to finish tasks we both began;
And still I wait to comfort children dear; but when my task is done, I’ll meet you here.
Together we will kneel at Father’s feet and plead for grace.
And while they communed a cloud passed o’er the moon,
And in the mist they disappeared,
And I awoke and found it was a dream.
No stars, no moon, no gate, not even a form,
And yet within my heart I knew it was their trysting place--
There meeting in the twilight’s magic hour.
A poem composed and read by Ferneth Brown, a Daughter of Teresa's oldest son, Floyd Alonzo Brown.