Posted in God, Poem, religion, Uncategorized

expiration

sitting in silence.

studying Him.

studying His hand in my life thus far.

the little things.

8th&Indiana tree appreciation.

laughter with the fellow beans.

accidental Spanish spill-over.

pretend to be good at violin so no one notices.

also pretend to have it together on my own.

its all Him.

looking back.

its all Him.

an image.

His hand.

an old expired strip of film.

the precious memories, behold.

the dated dark brown covers those tough spots.

His hand wipes the expiration-indicators off.

as He says, “you have no expiration to me.”

the strip transforms to meadows of flowers.

with an aroma so sweet.

so sweet, the smell of His unconditional love.

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