Easter 7 - Poem by Liza Sud
What I give you always - is Myself.
Anything for you I do not mind to spare.
Such a Holy Love and saint embrace
Is to give you everything without a trace.
I forgive you everything of Love.
Boundless My love, without vestiges.
From celestial latitude unbound -
I'm coming down to you in centuries.
Comments about Easter 7 by Liza Sud
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You