The
winter's chill seems here to stay
The
sound of joy has taken flight
The
sun that once shown bright and clear
Has
given way to shades of night.
The
wounds are deep that pierce the soul
The
cooing of the Dove is gone
The
empty space that once was filled
No
longer hears the blue bird's song.
How
can one find the road back home
Where
music calls the heart to dance?
When
will the birds begin to sing
So
Spring is not a game of chance?
The
summer rays that warm the soul
Are
Spirit borne on wings of praise
Just
trust the One Whose promise stands
His
music will renew your days.
--B.
Pent
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