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My Father ©

Stephen Reay
Stranraer, Scotland
2004

Last night I spoke with my Father
The first I had spoken in years.
I asked why he had forsaken me
And never answered my prayers.
I told Him all of my worries,
About all my problems and strife,
I asked why all of these troubles
Were destroying my personal life.
I wanted to know all the reasons,
Had I ever been really that bad?
To have all this pain thrust upon me,
To make my life wretched and sad.

This morning I awoke from my slumber,
To the shimmering rays of His sun.
The beautiful songs of His small feathered friends
From the boughs of the trees had begun.
I turned my head on the pillow,
To look at my darling wife's face,
Then in the glow of His warm summer sun,
My mind, it started to race.
I knew I wasn't forsaken,
He'd listened to all of my prayers,
I really had found my Heaven,
At the foot of His Heavenly stairs.


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