The Father's Hand
As I look upon these walls,
which surround me,
memories of home,
almost surely threaten to overwhelm me.
When darkness falls, my sleep is elusive,
as thoughts, within my mind,
try to dance to a tune, of loneliness.
Tonight, as I feel, the Father’s hand,
upon my shoulder
a warm sense of peace, envelopes my soul,
and I will draw upon my faith,
for his strength, and comfort, to guide me,
forward, along this pathway,
as I journey home.
Copyright©2007 Carla F. Cox
Copyright © Carla Cox | Year Posted 2009
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