Made One
The bruised soul in the battered body ached for renewal,
Teeth clenched,
little chest shaking,
as heart weakly reaching out.
Energy spent, love torn, her mind full of doubt.
God's bruised reed,
His smouldering wick;
He will not snuff or break.
Holding hand and kissing cheek,
As in dead of night
her soul He did take.
Copyright © Ross Thompson | Year Posted 2011
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