Saturday waits for love to be ministered
In mops and pots and pans
It paints practical Master-pieces
Where sweet thought-wonder spans
A filament of fears and years
That ravished our embrace
As tick by tock Time disappears
To its elusive place
Saturday waits for love to shoulder
More than weight of brooms; its rooms
Yearn to be filled with gentle laughter
Where Time weaves from ether looms
Tapestries of joy and sorrow
Who can know what colors fill
Skeins of its afternoon or morrow
Spilling from the Weaver’s will?
Saturday waits; we touch its tarmac
With worship of whispered prayer
No matter its shade of canvas
Saturday will soon rest where
We cannot change one jot or tittle
Of its mercy, moil and mirth
God, help us to shape a little
Bit of heaven here on earth
© Janet Martin
Off to make this gray May day beautiful, by God’s grace...
A little, lovely romance to get us started;))
A little, lovely romance to get us started;))
A very refreshing experience
ReplyDeleteI appreciate your words. thank-you.
ReplyDelete