Another Saturday evening worn down, it’s time to rest,

So exhausted at seventy four it’s hard to do my best,

I see a teardrop falling down as she feels pain for me,

My heart is grateful for the care she doesn’t know I see,

Do I sin if I rest Lord when one last timber must be nailed?

I grow hidden inside as I am more rank than I ever smelled,

She holds my blistered hand to her breast with tenderness,

Still so beautiful I fear I’ll bring her harm with my rottenness,

 
Each morning I leave with a smile though it’s hard each day,

The worry in her eyes breaks my heart although I cannot say,

I keep thinking just give me another week and I’ll get it done,

Home, it’s our new place of home, I pray the battle is soon won,

Sweet angel dear, in my youth you were the inspiration inside,

Dear darling wife, within you the glow of heaven doth reside,

Lift your tenderness to my brow to cleanse soil from my face,

Oh how angelic is your touch to he in your husband’s place,

When finished with our smaller home we will celebrate in joy,

You’ve endured for me my angel without complaint or annoy,

On a new Sunday morning coming soon, take my heart again,

Upon completion, hand in hand, our final journey will begin.

The end, for Patti. By Pat