My Day

Each day is a beautiful blossom,
Rich and rare.
I pick it with the pink of dawn,
To wear it in my hair.

Each day is a dark cloud mixed with blue,
And sunset gold.
A broach inlaid with mounted deeds,
Within my hands to hold.

Each day is a stretch of vision flung,
Through an open-gate.
Where faith suspends from a raveled cord,
And pondering angels wait.

Each day is a lovely song...in tones,
So soft and sweet.
While I...am walking upon God's earth,
With friends...complete.

Each day is an unused, weeded path,
My strength to test.
A challenge...lest I cease to search,
For that long awaited quest.

Each day is a realm, where hope aspires,
From sun to sun.
A time that tallies up life's score,
As to how I've...lost or won.


E.P. 1908 - 1989