|
To a son it is given |
|
Some dusty strings from the wall |
|
Fingers touch and he plays a tune |
|
It's a mighty air |
|
You know the heart is there |
|
It hides from the outside |
|
And it shines from within |
|
A ready pen for a picture |
|
Fine scribes lead the way |
|
Focus lens direct eyes that see |
|
The gifted hands |
|
Through timeless sands |
|
It hides from the outside |
|
And it shines from within |
|
When nature takes you for a stroll |
|
Down an avenue with so much soul |
|
Pleasure, gifts and the ornaments |
|
The creation found 'in the moving cloud' |
|
It hides from the outside |
|
And it shines from within |
|
The kind that keep holding on |
|
And it shines within |
|
Second nature |
