by Walter William Safar
Like a heavenly pathfinder,
He always knows his way,
After many rains his time is coming
To shine like a florin in a pauper's hand.
Many a shadow finds its place in the sun dial,
To display time for all the world.
Many a farmer calls out his name
While their land sleeps in the chains of the chilly winter.
His golden home is far away,
Very close are his dear children,
Slumbering away in golden craddles,
While caressed by warm hands.
There is a magnificent purpose to everything
When the sun is so close.
Last updated April 20, 2012