Her
See past the glassOver the oval ladel
Towards the perfect mass
Sitting at the table
Shining feathered wings
White bright skin
Falling auburn strings
A perfect time to mend
Pure clear thoughts
Smooth hushfull touch
Heavenly taught
Peaceful and such
Siliently watching
This gift God brings
She sees, feels, touches
And heals the soul in me
Poetry by AZ
Read 1305 times
Written on 2005-07-16 at 10:31
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