(Written Feb 11, 2010)
What do you do with a day that is blue
And everyone thinks it is red.
Some think about love, or a cute cooing dove,
But I think that its filled with dread.
For me it's much strife, and it hurts like a knife,
Yet the calendar marches straight on.
The "holiday" comes, and my heart beats like drums,
So for me, I feel real put upon.
In my head I think "now, don't have such a cow,"
"You'll prob'ly be fine in the end."
But one body part, which is really my heart
Says "there's no one on which to depend."
'My Cindy has gone and it feels much too wrong."
"Will it ever feel like it is right?"
"Who Knows?" says my brain, when I'm in such sad pain,
But my soul intercedes "There's a light:"
"It is bright as the Son, what He said will be done".
And finally I sense a great calm.
For me He will answer, "there's a reason for cancer."
"I promise a true healing balm."
This balm, it may sting, 'cause it's made by a King,
On a cross that has never grown small.
I will put it on thick, maybe that is the trick.
'Cause in Him I find my all in all.
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