The joy of early morning quiet, surrounded by sleeping sounds
The joy of a fresh, ripe book to savor
The joy of those who require no explanation for who you are
The joy of this pleasant familiar place, surrounded by framed memories which bless again
The joy of meats and pies and salads waiting in there
The joy of touching the garment’s hem as mystery passes by
The joy of a virgin day to roam this wild revolving planet called home
David M. Seymour, D.Min.
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Beautiful, Mark! You have a poetic soul!! I’m sending you my Joy poem by separate email.