Painted With Our Smiles
There is a quiet, rarely found,
Reverbing welcome peace.
That finds you fast when colors drown,
When every word has ceased.
A silence loud like monstrous bells,
But only just before they swing.
In the air a story dwells,
Like memories before they sting.
There is of course but one Divine,
Ruthless claiming God.
His name is Lonely and in time,
His presence wont seem odd.
How helpful life can be,
For laying painful tiles.
For guaging all the silence we,
Have painted with our smiles.
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