The Longest Part of Day

It is the shortest part of night,
And embers in the stove burn slow.
It is when hushed stars gleam so bright,
That my heart just seems to yearn so,
Just before early morning light.

It is the shortest part of day,
Before shadows cease to exist,
When fields enrapt in strands of mist.
Somehow trying to cling to my past,
And my mind thinks I'm there at last,
When I have such sweet memories of May.

No one here to see quiet rage,
As I recall each single way,
That her love took me away,
In the longest part of my day...

by Elzie McEntire 1999

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