The Visitor
You stole in unbeknown'st to me
with soft and silent tread,
You laid your hands upon my heart
and my confusions fled.
It stretched and flexed its crumpled wings
unused to flights of joy,
it tripped and skipped in gratitude
just like a little boy,
and by degrees my troubled soul
took solace from above,
my empty feelings of despair
transfigured by Your Love.
Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2012
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