Shine
Thought lost, the beauty that surrounds
Cultivated from the supple hand of man
Risen from earth and washed clear by rain
But what not planted by one is not all gone
Seeds still sprout from the wings of old
And the growth of good lives on
In spirits of me and spirits of you
Where the sun has not yet been
To where she lies in rest
Hues of hope revive
And in the morning
She shall shine
Bring faith my child
And the world will flourish
Copyright © Tim Smith | Year Posted 2017
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