The Gift of Friends |
| There are days when |
| Bubbling from us comes |
| The innocent child within, |
| Who giggles at the little things |
| And wears a silly grin. |
| There are days when |
| Melancholy comes to |
| Visit for a while; |
| The mind feels tired, the body weak; |
| We have no strength to smile. |
| There are days when |
| Joy abundant |
| Grabs a hold of you and me; |
| Wraps us up in all it's splendor, |
| Lifts us up and sets us free. |
| There are days when |
| Sorrow wraps us |
| In its cloak of grief and fear, |
| 'Till our hearts ache to the breaking, |
| 'Till our eyes can't shed a tear. |
| There are days when |
| Love bestowes us |
| With its wonderment and light; |
| With its beauty and its mystery, |
| Its power and its might. |
| And there are days when |
| Life rewards us |
| And seems to make amends |
| By granting us a marvelous gift, |
| The precious gift of Friends. |
- Karin Schaefer- |