Dear God,
I love that my mind
Can think of a rhyme
In morning or night
Most often they're fine.
I love to read Suess
A most whimsical soul
He made up his own words
When no words would go.
A frontic, A muletone
A lungstat prolific
I could write all day
Pretend words terrific.
Yes, thank you dear Lord
For allowing in me
The gift to make rhymes
Create word harmonies.
Love,
Me:)
{Daily Scripture Reading: Psalms 119:57-64}
http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=psalms+119%3A57-64&version=NIV
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| You are my portion, Lord; Psalms 119:57 |
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