Goldenrod and the 4H stonenThe things I brought you when I found out nYou had cancer of the bonennYour father cried on the telephonenAnd he drove his car into the Navy yardnJust to prove that he was sorrynnIn the morning, through the window shadenWith the light pressed up against your shoulderbladenI could see what you were readingnnAll the glory that the Lord has madenAnd the complications you could do withoutnWhen I kissed you on the mouthnnTuesday night at the Bible studynWe lift our hands and pray over your bodynBut nothing ever happensnnI remember at your mother's housenIn the living room when you touched my necknAnd I touched your blousennIn the morning at the top of the stairsnWhen your father found out what we did that nightnAnd you told me you were scarednnAll the glory at the top of the stairsnIf he raised his hand, I could pull his hairnAnd kick him in the facennSunday night when I cleaned the housenI found the card where you wrote it outnWith the pictures of you mothernnOn the floor at the great dividenWith my shirt untucked and my shoes untiednI am crying in the bathroomnnIn the morning when you finally gonAnd the nurse runs in with her head held lownAnd the cardinal hits the windownnIn the morning in the winter shadenOn the first of March, on the holidaynI thought that you were breathingnnAll the glory that the Lord has madenAnd the complications when I see His facenIn the morning in the windownnAll the glory when He took our placenBut He took my shoulders and He shook my facenAnd He takes and He takes and He takes