Could love be dead?
Could it be gone?
Is it something I should
Be letting pass on?
I just can’t believe it’s still there
After all the years I played.
Love must be a miracle.
A survivor of all that’s made.
It must be a souvenir
That you just can’t throw away.
It must be the misery
That finds a brighter day.
It must be a memory
Of which we’ll never release.
Bringing us to our pleas
Of the moments on our knees.
We love it for all it has to bring,
And all we can say
Is love is such a mystery,
But the best thing to come our way.

6-2-1992 Tuesday
Written by Gail Brookshire
PS. I am grateful God taught of His true love
In my Savior Jesus Christ! ❤