By D. R. DiFrancesco

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Your skin soft as down,

Pure as the wind driven snow,

Pressed up against me.

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Our Lords presence floats,

On the wings of an angel,

Renewing my faith.

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A child’s laughter,

Innocent and frolicsome,

Instills me with joy.

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Beauty of nature,

Unspoiled by man’s footsteps,

Given as God’s gift.