I think back on the good of my hard childhood,
A simpler time I confess.
We would farm all the fields and milk all the cows,
And at mealtimes our food would be blessed.
I would find time to play at the eve of the day,
And words always filled my mind.
I would give them control of my body and soul,
They would usually come out in a rhyme.
A song I could write that would tell of my plight,
I remember it yet today.
But now years have gone by and I ask myself why,
My writing has been held at bay.
It was two years ago a menís leader I know,
Encouraged each one to say.
Something of life from our heart to our wife.
It would happen on Valentines Day.
I wrote a short story giving God all the glory,
For this woman He placed by my side.
I read aloud in a place were wives dressed up in lace,
For thirty years Gods been our guide.
Now my writing has grown to a place of its own,
Filling books with rhythm and rhyme.
Oh the stories I tell almost leave in a spell,
Someday might be worth a dime.
It is this writerís wife, who has inspired his life,
With encouragement beyond compare.
She stands by his side and in him will confide,
For you, my lover, I care!
The David of old wrote his stories so bold,
In my ears his words still ring.
The future will tell and maybe say it so well,
Iím ďThe Man Who Would Make Words Sing.Ē
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
If you died today, are you absolutely certain that you would go to heaven? You can be right now. CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.