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One Touch©The old violin lay all scarred and battered. For no-one would play it and it never seemed to matter. Till one day a man from out of nowhere: picked the violin up in his hands and taking good care. He wiped off the dirt and tuned up the strings. Soon a sound so beautiful it hurt: with a chorus of angels did sing. So many a man on earth: life flawed like the old violin, get to feeling no worth: One Touch Of God's Hand and the changes begin! Copyright ©2006~S@L Vote for this poem |
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