These Precious Things-Sonnet - Poem by Joseph Anderson
These hands have rocked the cradles of the night,
Soughtsustenance to feed me, through the day;
My spirit soared with eagles, 'midst their flight
And lit the path I traveled on my way.
These eyes have been a beacon for my needs,
My spirit gave me guidance from afar;
These hands became a planter of the seeds
That banished e'er the dread of hungers ire.
May spirit, hands and eyes e'er lead me on,
Till hope is gone and faith must rule the day;
When yesterdays, tomorrows all are gone,
I must commend my soul to you and pray.
I now await life's last epiphany,
As time draws nigh for my return to thee.
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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