20 November 2006

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.

3 Comments:

Blogger BD said...

She wears nothing less than every shade gold, it makes these hands able to nurse...

12:02  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Beautiful. Truly.

21:54  
Blogger Bonnie B said...

Just thinking-- you are an amazing writer-- beautiful

04:01  

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