Vicarage Garden

In vicarage garden on a bench Frail old vicar sits caressed by autumn breeze Overcoat, scarf, hat, gloves against the cold Pondering on gifts God bestowed. Wife, children, friends, kind neighbours He gives thanks for his long life Given in service for others without complaint Toiling in his Lord's vineyard harvesting souls. Feels sharp pain in his chest Life like sunlight at dusk begins to fade From the shadows steps two familiar figures Cherished parents long since passed. "Your time has come, " his father says And taking the old vicar by the hand Leads him towards a dazzling light Welcomed at Heaven's gate by Angels.