Sketchism

I’d rather be outside, walking my dog. Listening to nothing, walking through fog. Hoping to hear Him respond to a prayer. But I’m glad when it’s quiet, cause I know He’s still there. I think of the time I have left, how I’ve used it and wasted. And sometime I think that it’s better to face it. I talk and he listens, I walk and he guides me. Even though I don’t feel him, I know he’s beside me. So I pray with eyes open, keeping straight on the pavement. And the cool spring night makes me wonder where days went. How they passed with such speed, how they seem such a blur. But I remember my friends, and how fun the days were. So I smile and I talk and I know that he listens. And each pause is a comfort and each star silently glistens. I walk past the sprinklers, timing my speed, avoiding cold water like a deep buried seed. But as soon as I pass one the rest soon turn off and my path is still comforting, silent and soft. Before I know it, I’m approaching the home, with my dog and my God I don’t feel so alone. I open the door and I feel that yellow glow and it’s off to my bed where I’ll soon have to go.

Goodnight.