Fence
This seedling's disarrange, nearing at fence
wanting to grow under, to condense,
is oft my own heart's wondering's expense,
a sorrow, deep inside from loving hence.
And if some joy would borrow, show nonsense
then try to climb or furrow, cause offense.
I ask forgiveness' marrow, strength to cleanse
my foolishness in Thee - this detriment.
And thank thee, for thy stalwart implement -
the knowing of thy loving heart's presence!
Copyright © Paula Larson | Year Posted 2005
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