Contributed by Austa Smith
I heard a poem in my soul
Night was near, my bed aglow.
The poem came on the feet of wind
Written down with golden pen.
Angels called with great display,
"What God hath wrought on this day?"
These words I caught in holy song,
With wonder I knew my sins were gone.
Once guilty and unhappy with my life
I heard, "Come to Me, forget your strife."
Tired of fighting with haunting thought,
I knelt on sacred ground, the rest I sought.
This was my choice; the very best!