Gardens Of The Soul
Cross meadows on mountains high.
Come whisperings of songs to my mind.
Through forest and field; on journeys blessed.
Soft wings of grace give unto the soul its rest.
Though darkness assails the sun still doth shine.
Hope flies on effervescent wings to grace this my time.
Hand over heel past dim valleys this soul shall crawl.
Memories forever cling like a fogs morning call.
Yet smiles arise with the rising of another sun.
Distant, but ever near; giving joy whereas others shun.
Ever so softly she lights on the garden of my soul.
And if but not for a moment life once again feels whole.
J. Allen Wilson © 1/26/2009
Garden Of The Soul Video Link