Fresh Bread
To the youth who inspire us all...TB.
Nothing could be sweeter,
than momma's cinnamon rolls,
'cept the "bread of life,"
in who's hands there are holes.
Like the crystal blue waters,
of a South American sea,
I know now where,
my savior desires me to be.
He invites me to the table,
to eat what I am able,
He's not far, but so very close,
His words mean the most.
Savoring words 'bout His hands,
His heart, His head,
quenching my hunger,
His love is like fresh bread.
©2006 Randolph D. Brown Jr.
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