Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Make Sense By Sheila Rae Hill (Fiction, 1975)




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You try to make sense out of a day;
out of days, though
I feel it's worth more to want to know you
and your ways, as you are now, as we all are now,
We've been through a lot, we've grown
around each other,
we've grown around ourselves, too.
Sometimes a bloom, grown better,
when surrounded by other growing blooms!
We all are, too!
Adjusting the things we talked
are coming about with our lord!
We are going our own way toward him each day,
For daily, differences will easily enfold many roads,
Many ought not to unfold, Many ought to be told.
You ask me to come to your house;
You are my house, you're already at my house.
We're there.

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