Tears she held back

As we get ready to board the bus,
she comes to bid us farewell,
but the tears she holds back I can see.
How she wishes we could stay and not leave.
How she wishes we could have another moment together.
People frequently come and go,
so many passersby.
Who will love her?
Who will love her home?
Are we another group that comes and goes,
or will we be one that will be committed?
One that will be committed to a partnership so deep,
that it will bring forth fruit,
fruit that will last?

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