Email Poem

Your IP Address: 3.144.193.1

Your Email Address:

To Email Address:

Subject

Personal Note:

Poem Title:

Poem

It’s said that God bestows on us, each and every soul,
A special gift just meant for us, to make our lifetime whole.
How often I have thought about what gift was to be mine.
I waited for His one bequest to make my earth years shine.
 
I've envied some their striking looks, their figures lean and spare.
(This gift from God not always used in unison with prayer.)
I watched the athlete nimbly scale to heights till now unclimbed.
While others scour the ocean floor: new life there, still to find.
 
I've closed my eyes and listened to the maestro's ebb and flow.
Was lifted up; my heart was stirred; my spirit touched my soul.
Then too there is the gift of song; a greater gift than gold.
Was I to have this blessed prize, what other need I hold?
 
But none of these He chose for me; not one did He bestow.
Instead perhaps the gift of words, shall serve me where I go.
For without words I could not write of wonders I have seen:
Could not return to times gone by, or capture fleeting dreams.
 
How, lacking words could I describe the sun upon of the sea:
A mountain pass, a lake of glass, the joy of being free?
Words serve to tell of all that’s good, as well as all that’s bad.
They make the beauty come alive and hurt us with what’s sad.
 
And when the years have passed on by and dust is what was me:
The gift of words, put down in verse, remain for all to see.
Thoughts penned in ink and left behind, let what ‘was me’ live on.
The gift of words will still be here when other gifts are gone.


© 2015 Diane Lefebvre

CAPTCHA Preview

Type the characters you see in the picture

Required