The door may creak, it weathered much.
Oh kindly try, it aches for the touch.
See the dust and tall history crests…
sparkle like gold in the shine of one test.
Call them again, let them return,
They who lost all and forgave not the burn.
God does look in and wrap round Eden’s blue,
Such mystery days will recall Love’s Rescue.
Pray us home, Love.
Let History be birth’s, New.
Forgive our lost way,
as we come Home sweet to You.
Photograph by Vasil Anastasovski
All of God’s garden,
feels our footsteps
beneath the dew.
Round grows the blossoms
turning towards like dancers on cue.
Feel how the winds lift
motioning color into a maze of new hues.
Heart, dear, take the silence
lest my words become lost in weeping.
Such wonder walks amidst beauty,
forever blessings come in the reaping.
Please, dear, see beyond,
a land there waits to greet.
Heart, dear, take my hand
and let our journey soft to sweet.
© 2012 Linda Willows
Photograph by G. Martin Fox