Tuesday, August 03, 2010

White Sunday 29

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your sorrows are my sorrows
your pain, mine own.
I will lay between the rocks and you
and keep you safe, and warm.

I will give you the best I have to give,
leaving no thorns in the flowers I bring.
I will learn to eat what you eat
and never make you listen when I sing.

I will lay beside you when you need me
and I will carry our load when you are weak.
I will listen when you when what is important
or even not, is what you speak.

I will bring you herbs fresh from the meadows.
I will kiss your lips, and yours alone.
I will make this life what I can make of heaven,
and never leave you, never alone.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

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