Blessings on the breezes
Each Sunday morning, Church bells ring,
in peals of happy laughter;
I can't help pray, and softly sing,
of hope for ever after.
We take the shortcut, straight to Church,
Through a shady avenue;
Where every sunbeam, seems to search,
enlightening our way through.
I love to walk this silent route,
beneath blossom laden trees;
That shower petals (sometimes fruit)
on an angels' breath like breeze.
In Church, I bow my head, and kneel in fervent prayer,
My little son is smiling, at the pink petals in my hair...
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