silence captures a moment in time—
an owl sounds the close of day,
a hush falls over the darkening sky
and the world closes its eyes to sleep.
Why is life like the ebbing tide?
The ebb of tides is never-ending…
Devastation can come in one huge wave
Or glide you gently into the shore.
Why is life like the shining sun?
Its radiance never ceases to glow…
Harsh heat often sets the earth ablaze
Or softly warms us on a winter’s day.
Why is life like the lilies of the field?
They stand so tall in their Sunday best…
Winter winds causes them to tilt and bend
Or makes them dance in a summers breeze.
Why is life like a shooting star?
Sometimes you see it, sometimes not…
Leaving a trail of light across the evening sky
Or gone in an instant, to be no more.
© Chrissy Siggee
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
From my book: Glimpses of His Glory
I asked an old lady in the park if she had seen my little boy.
‘What does he look like?’ she replied.
‘Well,’ I answered, quite sincere—
‘He has brown eyes
And hair to match;
Too many curls for a little boy,
Combed to perfection every day;
His teeth are white as white can be—
A very tidy little man is he!
He wears a smartly pressed sailor suit
With little white shoes to match.’
— A perfect darling is my boy.’
‘No child like this I have seen,’ the lady did respond,
‘but a treasure you will find, just around that path.’
Around the garden path I went
And before me, a treasure my eyes beheld—
He had brown eyes
And hair to match,
A shock of curls in disarray,
Band-aid knees and soiled clothes—
What happened to my little boy?
At front, he had a missing tooth;
He was eating ice-cream from a cone,
His face aglow with a rainbow smile.
—’A perfect darling is my boy.’
© Chrissy Siggee