Very blessed I am indeed,
a daughter not of Avraham’s seed.
Yet deep inside the dream was born
to live with the Son of a crystal morn
with wanderings in the glades of green,
sometimes hidden…and sometimes seen.
I reach for the sky,
not asking why
it should be this way
that I get to stay
within His arms,
secure from harms.
I only know the dream is true
and I’ve been spared from my due,
to walk amongst the angels bright,
to always walk within the light.
The shadows of this dark world gone,
I’ve left behind the battles won.
My armor now is laid to rest
and of the gowns, I’ll wear my best.
Upon the white charger He will ride,
coming soon to get His bride,
to sweep her away to lands so fair,
forever in His loving care.
February 26, 2009
A contest entry
- AP Contest by Aurielle.
400 points, ended July 23, 29 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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I love the pictures you paint, of the spiritual side of your prince charming carrying you away, as well as your earthly love doing the same here...Imagery,and descriptiveness beautiful...You also tell us of the hope you have found with the darkness behind you...PTL!
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beautifully written. i like the fact that you rhymed, and the imagery you penned are wonderful. i am still waiting for my knight to sweep my feet off and ride to the sunset. thank you for sharing your great poem with us.
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I know my Knight rescued me 7 years ago this St. Patricks Day! Never give up hope on true love it will find you when you least expect it. What an amazing write with beautiful imagery and emotion. Thanks for sharing, have a blessed day, hugs Theresa
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Oh so precious!
Yes, our true Knight will come for us and take us to that wonderful Paradise. This is a very touching and inspiring write and so beautifully written with such exquisite imagery.
This part is so fresh;
"Yet deep inside the dream was born
to live with the Son of a crystal morn
with wanderings in the glades of green,
sometimes hidden…and sometimes seen."
Lovely!
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Thanks, hon. When I write things like this, sometimes it is actually soothing to go back and read what I wrote. Is it weird to enjoy reading your own poetry?
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