Peace
When I am destroyed
And waiting to become
Dust, he builds me
Into the clouds.
He calms my heart, and
His steady hand stitches
The ragged edges into
A garment of gold.
When I was left for dead
His gentle hands
Nursed me back to life.
And waiting to become
Dust, he builds me
Into the clouds.
He calms my heart, and
His steady hand stitches
The ragged edges into
A garment of gold.
When I was left for dead
His gentle hands
Nursed me back to life.
3 Comments:
She wears nothing less than every shade gold, it makes these hands able to nurse...
Beautiful. Truly.
Just thinking-- you are an amazing writer-- beautiful
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