Author Marion Strobel And at last when I goWill it be so?Shall I find you behindThe rude platitude of death?I kneel within the certaintyThat you are near to me:Each day I prayThat I may follow throughTo you.Each day I pray. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments