THE SPECTATOR
Spring arrived quietly
Barely noticed this year
Almost like a spectator
In this game called life
Hurrying past us to her seat
Without a word or whisper
Just quickly passed by us
And sat unobtrusively
Close by our side
And nudged us
Gently on the arm
While intimating promises
Of pleasant times in store
For those willing to wait
Patiently on the Lord
With confidence knowing
That the seeds they've planted
Will blossom once again
As they've often done before
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