Waves
With wisdom I walk this sand
A lasting vestige of holy land
The water’s rise had been for told
Hence, it came as I grew old
Smartly I stand upon this land
The last remnant of God’s good hand
So as the waters close in on me
I stand alone with one oak tree
Soon I'll climb above God’s ground
With water lapping the only sound
I pray the lord looks down on me
And sees I need a taller tree
9/17/2018
Copyright © Jerry Hackett | Year Posted 2018
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