The words were like unto a book

As they lifted to the heavens in prayer

Cascading down upon the intended

Showering healing, though he was unaware

   


Rolling like a thunderous cloud across the heavens

Gathering in intensity, audible to all in the skies

Striking the angels with gusting winds

Beseeching God to hear these cries

   


Sweet miracles rolled along the trail

Of the stream of prayer given in the spirit

Close to God the Father, cloistered as one

There was no denying the plea it was inherent

   


God looked upon His precious obedient child

Tears of compassion streaming down her face

Stretched forth His Almighty Hand

Granting her pleas with Heavenly Grace

Gayle Davis
August 20, 2003©
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This poem is used with Gayle's permission.

Please ask permission before using it.

Thank you so much for allowing me to use

Jimmy