My Secret Place
Anita Phillips


Just beyond the dooryard
Where hollyhocks will grow,
Birds have come to nest again
After winter snow.
Belfry chimes are ringing
As golden sun shines through
Stained glass gothic windows,
Amethyst, red and blue.
A brook is trickling
Its age old theme
Reflecting a cobalt sky
While feathery cirrus clouds
Are slowly drifting by.
Humble buttercups,
Raise their golden heads
In thanks and adoration
I, too, am grateful Lord
For this place of varied beauty;
Of peace and solace
And blessed meditation.
Published in The Longfellow Journal, Volume XII
© Anita Phillips
All rights reserved. No part of this work may be copied or used in any way without written permission from the author.

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