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Precious Daughter
 


God forgives all mothers the sin of pride
This must be true
or I know that I'd
be condemned to perdition,
I'm so bursting inside.

Much more than warm fuzzies
my daughter, my heart.
You're every inch woman
but something apart.

Washed in the fire of His love is your life.
You are daughter, sister, mother, wife.
You pastor with Bobby out there on the street
giving love straight from Jesus to any you meet.

Your road is a rough one
for street people falter.
You just pick them up, show them love,
precious daughter.

Your house was a house
'til you made it a home,
filled it with love
and that taste of your own.
Do you keep it just private?
No, that's not the way.
It's filled with lost souls most every day.

They don't stay lost.

By cherryk

© 2017 cherryk (All rights reserved)

 

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This Poem is part of a Challenge: Anything Goes - AG (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: Anything Goes - AG (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: Anything Goes - AG (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: Anything Goes - AG (challenge has been closed)


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