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AN ODE TO CAROL
By Steve Wessels
to my wife, at our wedding reception
© 11-15-97


 

This Ode to Carol is sure to be
a wedding gift for eternity,
some words to guide, my love to tell,
the vows to recall, to on them dwell.

The years of loneliness in my past,
the yearning for a soul mate to last,
the final death of hope for a mate,
before the Lord, accepting my fate,

That long dark time of desperate nights,
of month after month without insight,
of long summer eves, so dark and so cold,
without e’en my pets to cuddle and hold.

Then when at last the Lord had me stripped,
when all my selfish tears were dripped,
with death of hope for fellowship sweet,
to rest in His arms, with Him only weep,

the wounds inside sufficiently healed,
the deepest of scars, fully annealed,
the search for a mate over at last,
the walk of faith with Him steadfast,

I went for a walk one day in May,
The Human Race Fundraiser came into play.
Friends came along to walk the course,
‘cause I couldn’t run the race with force.

Someone named Carol stepped alongside,
we talked those miles, stride after stride.
I offered to work on your car that day,
mechanical skills came into play.

You plainly asked me to ask you out,
that wasn’t something you had to shout.
A week passed by before I dared call,
hope against hope, risking my all.

A dinner, a movie called The First Knight,
of chance, romance and kisses delight,
of hands so tenderly intertwined,
the fire of a touch, a look divine.

This Ode to Carol is sure to be
a wedding gift for eternity,
some words to guide, my love to tell,
the vows to recall, to on them dwell.

The years of loneliness in my past,
the yearning for a soul mate to last,
the final death of hope for a mate,
before the Lord, accepting my fate,

That long dark time of desperate nights,
of month after month without insight,
of long summer eves, so dark and so cold,
without e’en my pets to cuddle and hold.

Then when at last the Lord had me stripped,
when all my selfish tears were dripped,
with death of hope for fellowship sweet,
to rest in His arms, with Him only weep,

the wounds inside sufficiently healed,
the deepest of scars, fully annealed,
the search for a mate over at last,
the walk of faith with Him steadfast,

I went for a walk one day in May,
The Human Race Fundraiser came into play.
Friends came along to walk the course,
‘cause I couldn’t run the race with force.

Someone named Carol stepped alongside,
we talked those miles, stride after stride.
I offered to work on your car that day,
mechanical skills came into play.

You plainly asked me to ask you out,
that wasn’t something you had to shout.
A week passed by before I dared call,
hope against hope, risking my all.

A dinner, a movie called The First Knight,
of chance, romance and kisses delight,
of hands so tenderly intertwined,
the fire of a touch, a look divine.

 

 

PERMISSION FOR USE: The following may be reprinted without prior permission for non-commercial use on the condition that the text is not changed and credit is given for the copyright.

 

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Steve Wessels is no longer practicing law, and the general information contained within this website should not be relied on in any jurisdiction for legal advice. Every case turns on different facts and circumstances within the vastly different laws and procedures of each jurisdiction, and everyone who is seeking legal advice should consult an experienced attorney where they live.