Twenty-six years this Earth has known
Of a pure flower by our Lord sown
This Beauty He called to mourn and groan
A world forgetting tis not its own.
Into such wisdom you have grown
Because to prayer your spirit's prone.
To wife and mothers station blown
By making Abba's will your own.
Now you tend wee lambs that moan
If they don't get an icecream cone
Sometimes on and on they drone
These Eden's joys we call our own.
;~pikipikipoet
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