February 3, 2024
My quiet time, my quiet place
Is early morn’ to seek God’s face.
A time to read, a time to pray,
That cherished time to start my day.
The still dark hour before the sun
It’s then that most my rhymes are spun.
Hot coffee cup beside my chair,
I reach inside for thoughts to bare.
Perhaps a mem’ry from the past,
I write it down to help it last.
Sometimes it’s thoughts that stir my soul,
From long ago, so rich, so old.
I pray you too can pause and find
The memories you’ve left behind.