Treasure The Gifts
I remember the music.
It burns in my soul.
It came to me early
and I became whole.
I remember the words.
They burn in my brain.
They came to me later
from where they had lain
Dormant and quiet,
still as can be.
And as these words spill
they've become me.
These gifts from my God
are blessings to treasure.
The notes and melodies
and rhythms I measure
are dear to my being.
They create who I am.
And all of my loved ones
are expressions of them.
If I had been born
devoid of them both
would I have survived
and taken an oath
to search for them loyally
in any future lives?
Of course I can answer.
I'd search the archives
I'd probe carefully
'till I found them anew
to be a part of me
and all that I do.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Added by Poetry Lover
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