Colin F. Jones

MARK THEE THY PLACE
(for Billy Willbond)

Mark thee thy place in heaven Bill,
Beyond white valleys and snow-capped hill,
Where the warmth in your one pen hand,
Could melt all the snow that cloaks the land.
Where has the Queen been that her knight
Wears not the shadow of her might,
Upon each shoulder left and right…?
To radiate her fond delight!
On men of loyalty and pride,
Who set their own self needs aside,
To seek for those who strive in vain,
To reap some peace from harsh disdain,
And from the hunger famine brings,
While the rich man sits and softly sings

What Santa Clause compares with thee,
What Good Samaritan like you could be,
What nurse, what Angel better shares,
The substance of your wondrous cares.
What man, what soldier can more claim,
The worthiness to mount his name,
Upon the monuments of the Earth,
Where Devils die and giving birth,
The great Angel of the more profound,
With generous truth ill will confounds,
With children of a new born year,
Given refuge from a life of fear…
All happy with loves gifts from you,
A very, special friend to know.

©Copyright March 5, 2007 by Colin F. Jones