A precious gift from poet’s quill,
When like the blooms of rose,
Or Jasmine, all of those,
A fragrant sense my nostrils fill,
When like a kiss of mother dear,
Cuddles me in arms so near,
And strokes my hair,
Of memories near,
When brook and stream do wet bare feet,
Kisses, bushes, shady trees,
Long grasses trees of willows bent,
My lover in my arms does sleep,
Hallowed halls in silence rest,
Candles burning in a niche,
Whispers where a quiet voice,
And angels with me rest,
Where hills and fields aglow in dusk,
Where bock and zebra graze,
And eagles fly,
And all is God in trust,
Where children’s tears I wipe away,
Enfold them in my arms,
Still their hurt and fears,
And find them happy play,
Where rascal devils I address,
Of souls are kin to me,
Fathom deeper, higher realms,
More wisdom then I’m blessed,
When God in kindness visits me,
And all his kin that he create,
His glory witness in my heart,
His stars and heavens let me see,
Dear poet dear, when you spill ink,
And scratch a note to me,
In words I understand,
You lead me on to feel and think,
Devils, Gods, may hold your hand,
Angels, demons, common man,
Further help us see the light,
And help us understand.©01/11/2009
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