Poem for her 241

Dear Readers,


Water of her Voice


The call came in just after 11
Nervous was my hands and feet tingled
First time she called me
First time I heard her
First time her voice watered me
Fed me a living water that Jesus
Knew her voice would
Looking at her today feeds me
The sight of her face
The hold of her hand
Nourishes so deeply
Jesus knew his gift would be
Perfect for me in a deep way
His living water
Flows from places we can not see
But then we open our eyes
And see the faces and voices
Of each other and see
Jesus holding our hands
Together in his
Is why we can't tell them apart


Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.