pastor appreciation poem

night is dark, and the winter winds
i've won the race
it was a tall young oysterman
desolate and lone
uplifting, as the wind blew
just as my fingers on these keys
why do you always stand there shivering
behold me, in my chiffon, gauze and tinsel
eighty years have passed, and more
musing, between the sunset and the dark
he speaks not well
friend, whose smile has come to be