In the storm of life, my dear,
we are thrown about.
Many times we pass too near
and so we doubt
what is secure,
to hold for life
we pass, unsure.

Suddenly, we find ourselves adrift, alone,
the ship now gone.
Struggling to reach the shore,
familiar ground,
to fear no more.

The storm is long, the night is cold,
And then, a warm hand grabs hold.
And though too near, we had passed it by,
Its sturdy bow with oars held high,
It was with us all along you see,
For our life boat is your love for me.

JLC