Honor

Here I sit in the fall of the year,
Honoring you Joelle, my dear,
My bow is taunt,
And so you are your wings,
So I'll open up my heart,
Let the bow sing,
Your grave says, "Joey run like a deer",
So I'll I seek my prey and hope not to fear,
Each face of the deer,
Is as sweet as yours,
Remembering how fast, quick, you leered,
In honor of you, my dear Joelle,
My bow is quick,
Like you Joelle,
God is near!