Grace

It’s a rainy night in March, the air still,

and the glittering stars reveal the will,

of our mad and brave hearts to reign

above the broken city and it’s disdain.

A trendy little place in a downtown LA,

and holding hands is how we can pray.

The neon of the front window, a moon

of lurid colors, a guide to a sacred boon.

On the sidewalk we dance, I spin around

holding your hand, earth and sun wound.

We do the steps, and lose stars in the eyes.

After all that’s been, life can still be a surprise.

Theirs no music, we just dance, a spring night.

The stars don’t show the way, but are so bright.

Hands on your waist, yours around my neck.

The place is closing, 2 AM, time to pay the check.

And we sit hand in hand, the Uber on it’s way,

and in heaven, this night remains, we will sway,

again in the March nights that never go so sour,

we will dance, children welcomed in His Power.

As we’re driven back home, holding you so near.

There’s nothing but love in my mind, no more fear.

I kiss your head, and the lights trail and stretch out.

This love, touching His Grace, is what it’s always about

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