I must’ve lost you somewhere, must’ve.
Maybe, that beach you used to love,
or that field that was littered with wildflowers.
I’ve been paging you with my heart,
but I know you couldn’t have heard it.
The seasons passed and it glowed December,
red berries littered the frozen dirt.
Petals swirled in pools of spring,
and summer drizzles sprinkled your favorite shorelines.
Crisp leaves scraped along the concrete in November,
but there was no sign of your glory left to hold.
I’ve pled to the ceiling to offer the costs.
But the Lord never stands willing,
to bargain what was once—