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The
Bucket Of Joy ~*Marge
Tindal*~ Sir
created ~ A
spirit with hair lit with the golden rays of the sun Within
her heart He placed the song of a child taken
from the very throat of the nightingale For
the crowning touch to this beauty upon
her face He placed a smile She
glowed ~ He
gave her a vase to gather the
lovely flowers of the meadow He
gave her a bucket full of joy and
bade her to live happily upon
the days of the earth He
smiled ... and it was good Years
passed ~ He
found her sitting all alone in
the meadow where she'd been created No
smile - no joy to call her own Child,
what happened to the gifts I gave you ? You've
nothing left to show She
replied ~ Sir,
I've traveled far from this meadow, to
lands where sorrow weeps I
felt so blessed that I gave away all
the gifts you'd have me keep Meekly
she said ~ I
had more sunshine than I needed I
shared some with a friend who was down My
smile was badly needed on the face of
a friend who wore a frown Tearfully
she continued ~ On
the grave of a soldier whose
widow wore a brave face I
placed lovely flowers from the meadow in
a tiny crystal vase Wistfully
she remembered ~ To
a crying child needing slumber I
gave my finest song a voice Nightingale
would be proud of
the hushed lullabye of choice Humbly
~ I
gave away almost all of the blessings that
you sent my way And
yet, Sir, I feel richer than
I was on that beginning day Hopefully
~ But,
Sir, I still have the bucket It
has held the tears of many Sometimes
they overflow the brim and
sometimes there are not any Smiling
~ When
I think that I have taken all
that my bucket can hold Someone
sends to me a
smile, a flower, a song A
ray of sunlight dancing straight
across my soul Sir
sighed ~ Thy
name is Joy Sir
wept ~ Joy
caught His tears in her bucket |
