Post by carol on Jul 12, 2008 21:26:25 GMT -6
Does anyone like poetry? Here's a poem I wrote. (I don't know what else to post right now 
)
JUST AN AUTUMN LEAF
Dear God, the children say that You are everywhere.
It must be true and if it’s true You’ll hear this quiet prayer.
I’m just an autumn leaf, and I have fallen down.
The other leaves fall near to me here on the frozen ground.
The wind is blowing cold. I’d like to say before
I’m buried deep in winter’s keep and see the sun no more,
Dear God, I’m awfully glad You gave the spring to me,
And warming winds of summer when children played here by the tree.
Though just a leaf, a simple leaf, my heart lifts high in praise,
Dear God I mean to thank You for the wonder of Your ways
Footsteps, a child bends down on his tattered knees.
He lifts me up into a book, and gently carries me.
Takes me up to the house, high on the sunny hill.
The book held bright in morning light, this writing is revealed:
The drought took all the corn and dried the well me made,
But blessed be the faithful tree that gave my children shade.
Dear God, I’m awfully glad the autumn brings relief-
Somehow you’ve grown a bounty from that old garden by the tree.
Though just a man, a simple man, my heart lifts high in praise,
Dear God I mean to thank You for the wonder of Your ways.
)JUST AN AUTUMN LEAF
Dear God, the children say that You are everywhere.
It must be true and if it’s true You’ll hear this quiet prayer.
I’m just an autumn leaf, and I have fallen down.
The other leaves fall near to me here on the frozen ground.
The wind is blowing cold. I’d like to say before
I’m buried deep in winter’s keep and see the sun no more,
Dear God, I’m awfully glad You gave the spring to me,
And warming winds of summer when children played here by the tree.
Though just a leaf, a simple leaf, my heart lifts high in praise,
Dear God I mean to thank You for the wonder of Your ways
Footsteps, a child bends down on his tattered knees.
He lifts me up into a book, and gently carries me.
Takes me up to the house, high on the sunny hill.
The book held bright in morning light, this writing is revealed:
The drought took all the corn and dried the well me made,
But blessed be the faithful tree that gave my children shade.
Dear God, I’m awfully glad the autumn brings relief-
Somehow you’ve grown a bounty from that old garden by the tree.
Though just a man, a simple man, my heart lifts high in praise,
Dear God I mean to thank You for the wonder of Your ways.
