The Bells, of WoeBeGone

 

 

 

The Gift,  of Faith

  (  A Season’s Ring  )

and,  as The

Whisper of Winter’s Breath,

carries the Last Leaves of Autumn,

Far,  from The Loving Arms of Home,

away to Golden Fields of Our Memory,

and lesser Days,  cast a longer Shadow,

upon All that Might Have Been,  remember

Always,  that Hope flies Eternal,  and Wishes born

in The Prayers of Children,  live On in The Hearts of Angels,

as Their Dreams,  walking Hand in Hand with God’s Grace,  become

The Spirit of Promises to Keep,  for The Joys of All They can Be,

ly waiting,  in The Eyes,  of

     Tomorrow . . .

 

 

 

 from Book III,  The Diamond ( Third Beginning ) The Twelfth DoveTale – The Symphony of Moments

 

 

 

Advertisements

Comments are closed.