Doris Snyder

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Youth's Cry

Why am I to leave my humble abode
For land afar where guns explode
Ruining human temples of God? Why am I to kill or suffer or die
For money, power and greed? Fie!

Molded Clay

God didn't ask me if I wanted to be
Black, white or yellow.
God didn't ask me where I wanted to be
Hill, sea or meadow. He molded clay, concerted symphony,

My Friend

Softly sharing my joy and sorrow,
Gently guiding to rules to follow,
Patiently waiting to hear my babble,
Tenderly easing my trouble,

One + One = One

Since our Father Created one man with certain attributes
And one woman with similar attributes,
And equally Favored them spiritually
To nourish one unit, a family,


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8/3/2021 6:58:43 AM #