Faye Gibson Poet Lyric

Hallowed Place

My thoughts touch you in whispered ways
so often in the measured pace
of minutes, hours called a day.
As soulful, sighing breezes sway
lithe branches freshly dressed by Spring,
so do my thoughts caress your face
with softly stirred remembering;
then on some treasured token stay
in homage bowed to quietly pray
and lift a tribute to your grace:
my God, this is a hallowed place.

loudly duty calls my mind to weigh
the worth of tasks I should embrace;
yet, before long, my glad thoughts stray
to find a shady, sheltered bay
unmarred by discord's haunting sting,
and there, away from all things base,
I find your spirit. Ah, there we sing
and dream together while far away
dies the noisy din that was my day,
let naught of earth this joy erase:
My God, this is a hallowed place.

Copyright, 1987, Faye Gibson

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