In soggy leaves upon the ground
Cloven hoofed tracks are found.
Silence broken, shots ring out
Running feet, angry voices shout.
No trophy hunting here, but it’s too late,
The deed is done. Why, this fate?
The presence of another life
From the past amid hate and strife
Is felt in hearts, souls and minds
To remind one and all of those times
Why O’ why do we repeat the need
Of sacrifice of life from that seed
And the trek with nails and cross
In hand up that hill, where the cost
Of sin was paid, for you and for me
By a loving God, Who gave His Son for thee.
So long ago
Copyright © 2013 Charles E. Frost
May 14, 2013