"Loss"
What is to become of me, I wonder
When I cannot live on my own
What is to become of my husband
my little sweet homeless Theodore
With not a penny for his dinner to take
With no roof to cover his pretty head
And no clothes to shield his body from the rain
Oh Theodore my worries lie here
Thee that I so dearly and neatly wrote of
The poems fall out through the front door
And rest in puddles on the street
But for thy sweet self, what puddles await thee
And who shall love thee when I am taken away
Oh life that lives to guard her spouse
What can I do now to protect thee
How can I harbor thee from the sun
My darling one, though I cannot give thee
All the things that thee so dearly deserve
Still yet I hold thee, Yet I kiss thee
And no one knows what tomorrow holds
Oh what is to become of he and I
How could there be such cruelty
The rats that scatter across the floor
Are trying to take me away
And where they take me, there will I die
And little Homeless Theodore
Pray for this house, If you will
We seem pent on destruction
In Jesus' Name,
Amen