Poetry

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© Bob Barra, 1-26-07

Truly, man’s made many a wonder,
Like the Taj Majal, or pyramid of Khufu;
Yet, these seem pathetic blunders,
When we see just what You do;

Just look at this marvelous man;
Yes, just look at me;
The first wonder in me stands;
The fact that I can see;

After this, I must confess,
To savor all on table placed;
Whatever food my tongue addressed;
I thank You I can taste;

A third wonder that I enjoy,
When music pricks my ear;
This wondrous thing, a natural toy,
That I can truly hear;

Fourthly, Lord, a pleasure of skin,
When I just lovingly clutch;
And sense another, a physical whim,
When I reach to touch;

Behind that, comes number five;
It makes my heart so reel;
Once I touch another alive,
And that one I feel;

Beyond that, is number six;
Follows touching, like a draft;
The sound that joy depicts,
When You hear us laugh;

Finally, Father, is number seven,
The greatest gift above;
It sings the song that comes from heaven,
When my heart feels love.

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