the dawn breaks forth on plots of gold and green -
the night was black but not without its end -
and though we hoped that hope did lurk unseen,
'tis sweet to know on God we can depend.
the wind delivers scents of red and blue;
we close our eyes and think of all 'tis ours -
our baby girl, our love so very true -
we revel in this joy before it sours.
while walking through this field we feel the silk
of all these colors given for our bliss.
we dwell no more on darkness and his ilk;
we think on what we have, not what we'll miss.
the times turn all these cycles to the past,
thank God we have a God whose love will last.
Your comments are greatly appreciated. nandor@wellington.org