The Cedarville Review 2021

47 | CEDARVILLE REVIEW I had a dream: the birds came back and the sun rose again. The mornings were no longer cold: the night without eerie vacancy echoes silently, the sweet memory of a time when touch was but a quiver of resolve. As we sit lonesome in our bitter comfort, our restraints unchosen, we remember that song of love and affection stashed away in the upper room locker. BEFORE EZRA SHIMABENGA