APPLES OF GOLD

Soul Weaver, weaving on the loom of my heart,
See the strength within Your creative hands
As the passion in your pattern burns.

(photo courtesy of: http://www.allposters.com/IMAGES/LPIPOD04/BN59_91.jpg)

Soul Weaver, weaving on the loom of my heart,
See the strength within Your creative hands
As the passion in your pattern burns.

In a year of minutes, upon the loom soon stands
The fabric into which your wild wool turns.
Gently, yet firmly, gliding your fingers among the strings
I begin to come to life upon the loom.

With the skill and age experience brings
Watch the pattern of my soul begin to bloom.
Like the hands of a surgeon skilled
Performing a delicate operation,
The spinning of the wool will only be stilled
When You put the finishing touches on this creation.

As upon the loom all day You weave,
Threading a distinct rhythm as You go along,
You knit a soul You can never leave.
You are the harpist, I am your song.

You know and well hide all of my flaws,
Yet You wear me with well satisfied pride
And when the night comes, You only pause
To set a light to continue at my side.