Poems of Lighthouse Bob
Memoirs of an Old Oak #293
Memoirs of an Old Oak Now, but a stump, the old oak stood above the scrub brush, weeds, and wood that flames devoured and turned to coal but not so for the oak, its soul had dug down deep, exposed its roots and found a source of life, a fruit beyond the surface and façade of earthly things, the things of God held precious in the old oak's heart began to nurture and impart to all the saplings gathered round the Hope and Love the old oak found. God bless, Lighthouse Bob |
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Memoirs of an Old Oak #293
Memoirs of an Old Oak #293
