Footprints of Faith

[couchgrouch]

Footprints of FaithRolled up that Saturday night, right around two o'clockmoon peekin' through the clouds, like a toe through a socksteam pourin' 'neath the hood, of our old Novacouldn't make it to our bed, passed out on the sofawoke up to a silent house, late that Sunday morn'scent of my wife's waffles, in the oven keepin' warmI coulda looked upstairs, but I didn't need to searchour empty coat rack told me, that she'd gone to churchoutside in the soft morning snowwere shoeprints down that country roadcos when she went to sing and prayshe left footprints of faithher shoeprints made think of, places that I'd beencrooked paths of mem'ries, littered with jugs of ginI drank ev'ry martini, I ever metthe drier barkeeps poured 'em, the thirstier I'd getthen I sat in the kitchen, head poundin' something awfulpoked a shaking fork in, my wife's homemade wafflesI always knew her love, was something true and preciousbut there's no harder road to leave, than the sinful flesh'sthough I feared booze couldn't be beatby a man so low..so weakwhen the Lord walked on water that dayhe left me footprints of faithit was a long, chilly tripthat started with twelve stepsand when I walked in church that daymy wife saw footprints of faithfootprints of faithfootprints of faith(c)2005 Robert George