Poetry

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(written by Bob B., 12-22-02)

Sweet little lady,
Who thinks herself quirky;
She makes me smile,
All sorts o’ smirky;
Your humility’s sweet,
In Him, you’re complete.

Our talks are so fine,
Of the Lord, so sublime;
Your words make me think,
Without Him, I’ll sink;
Without really trying,
You so say this:
To continue and walk,
In His holy bliss.

So let us be friends,
Yes, you and I;
And do things together,
With Him, O’ so nigh;
For you,
Him I do thank;
You’re apparently His,
In this I’ll be frank!

So what better things,
Can be just said;
This lovely truth,
Has no such dread;
My holy sister,
You are to me;
Under His Tree O’ Life,
Forever you’ll be!

So please accept this,
No string attach;
Being blessed, I do give,
This humble dispatch;
I sing this song,
Of uncommon Grace;
Because His light does shine,
In your pretty face!

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