Never again will a sinful wren
spin a tale such as this again.
For no birds will be so swift
like a lift to eyes that call friend.
Let’s forget something for a while
and seek harbor, a deep smile,
that piles all the while in style
to ration and defeat the vile.
The Lord is King above all,
the King of all Kings,
whom I call in prayers often,
that the morning sun brings.
I need music and beauty befitting,
that is sweet, that along I meet,
in my head to be fed
and christened for my feet.
Walked a path not taken,
drowned, all the while in thought,
to be in tune I think I could
think ideas the Lord has brought.
RMC 