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Each Day

 


Each branch, a part of life
spun, a part not yet lived.

Each thought entered
in the book of God.

Each memory locked
in the memory bank,
not all are good.

Each branch, never lives
forever, they get brown
and die.

Each spoken word,
never always truth,
lies deep enough
to be remembered.

Each day the branches
grow, it up to us what
will live and what will
die.

Each prayer muttered
in silence, may be
the strength, the power
we strife for.

Each green branch
is a symbol, of what
our lives may become
with faith and love,
and eternal peace.

By Derena

© 2018 Derena (All rights reserved)







©2000 - 2019 - Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors.

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