Our Sacred Author
When God, our sacred author
was penning on his scroll
He started writing poems
of people he would know
in one hand, he held mine
a page which bears my name
the other page was empty
on which my love became
with each stroke of his feather
He had my heart in mind
and each line became better
as He laid them out in time
two lovers he anointed
before the days' design
two lives that will be pointed
two petals on the vine.
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