MY WIFE
A well that succored countless,
might now be dry.
At least its water
vapid, sullied, useless.
You would think.
But yours gives constant place
to purer still.
A draught
that seeps through sands of time
to cool in sorrows depths.
Then quenches thirst
for broken-hearted;
refreshes, soothes,
discouraged brow;
and cleanses,
with its flood of righteous love,
the sin soiled soul.
This water you so freely give
goes ebb-less its eternal way.
A stream of Light
that widens with the years
and carries those who ride upon its wave
to its Source
and End.
             Steve Dunn Hanson

 

 

 

 

  

 

  

 

Veradale, Washington 2014

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