Memorial Day was over now,
All had left and I was alone,
I began to read the names and dates
Chiseled there on every stone.

The dates which showed whether it was Mom or Dad or daughter or baby son,
The dates were different but the amount
The same, there were two on every one,
It was then I noticed something,
It was but a simple line:
It was the dash between the dates Placed there, it stood for time.

All at once it dawned on me
How important that little line.
The dates placed there belonged to God,
But that line is yours and mine.

It’s God who gives this precious life
And God who takes away;
But that line between He gives to us
To do with what we may.

We know God’s written the first date down
Of each and every one,
And we know those hands will write again,
For the last date has to come.

We know He’ll write the last date down,
And soon, we know, for some.
But upon the line between my dates
I hope He’ll write “well done.”

© Lucille Britt

The Dash Between The Dates

I sit and stare amazed to spy a thousand graves that catch my eye
between the birth and death a brand
I trace the dash , examine my hand,
how could something so small represent
an entire life in one single dent.
not important when your born or die
it's that single line that makes me sigh
our dash is being lived this day
while a thousand lines have no more to say;

~ Samantha G Kennedy ~Copyright2000