Showing posts from February, 2016

This is the Song of My Heart

Not every note is hit just right, Not every note is played very well But this is the song of my heart. I cannot play much But what I can, I will For this is the song of my heart. When all is silent, And still in the house, This is the song of my heart. When turmoil runs deep And the heart is weak This is the song of my heart. When I lie a fragile wreck, And all inside me wants to gives up, This is the song of my heart.

Who Am I?

Who am I?
I contemplate the question,
But little comes to mind.
A girl with strange ideas,
Kind of wild and crazy too,
A mess of curls and plain complexion,
Short stature, and not the shape
That magazines will publicize or make look great.
To the world, I am not that smart
And seem to be quite useless in their mind,
And so I cry.
Who am I?
If I have no purpose
And if not beautiful on the outside
Then who am I?
And so I cry.

While the world tells me lies
And I sometimes believe everyone,
I must turn to scripture
And see what my creator and maker says,
About who I am.

My creator,
He fashioned me in my mother’s womb,
Made my eyes green,
Gave me a heart of compassion and love,
And hands to serve,
And a smile that brings cheer,
And laughter that ripples through the air.
He created me for a purpose and a plan,
For his glory,
And for his joy.
He delights in me with singing,
Cause I am his.
He bought me with a price.
He create me
And bought me back.

An Exhilarating Walk

She steps out the door to meet the cold. The wind in her face, the wind too bold. She grins and smiles with mischief within And skips down her steps with a stubborn chin. Not winter, not wind, not snow nor ice Can stop the young lady from living in paradise. With a dance in her step and song in her heart, This cold winter walk she will start. All bundled up with boots on her feet She marches down her icy street. With her bright green eyes She stares at the snowflake-filled skies. But cold pushes her on, no lagging behind. The walk is exhilarating, but she doesn’t mind. The wind chilling air keeps her moving with haste, Reminding her that time she must not waste. She hurries to school with blushing red cheeks, For the warmth of a building she determinedly seeks. She passes bundled strangers along her way, And cheerily calls to each a very good day.

Unreasonable Happiness

"A wind sprang high in the west, like a wave of unreasonable happiness, and tore eastward across England, trailing with it the frosty scent of forests, and the cold intoxication of the sea."
~G.K. Chesterton

But She Dreams of Summer

As snow blows gently down to the earth And blankets the ground and still higher, She dreams of the summer flower. White and grey, the colors of the earth convey, But total bliss in the heart of the girl who dreams Of the blue skies, green fields, or dancing streams.
The deadness of winter, but hopes of spring, Make cold winter nights just a bit warmer. As the young girl dreams still more of summer.
Sipping on hot cocoa or tea in a cup Or cuddling under blankets with a journal in hand Makes the girl dream of the sunny southern land.

But while the snow lasts, the girl still laughs,

Because she is never too old to have snowball fights, Whilst dreaming of the summer starry nights.