A Father’s Presence

From her cold numb hands
the flowers fall.
He only used her,
cared naught at all.
Standing in white,
she’s trying to fight,
the tears.
All words he said,
now fall dead,
on her ears.
She sinks to her knees,
and softly a breeze,
rustles her hair.
As rain starts to fall,
she sends up a call,
to her father.
Then through the rain,
and her fog of pain,
He comes.
Lifting her up,
wrapped in his love,
God holds his child,
and lets her cry.

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