Holy, Holy, love comes near…
I am covered low, in love divine
as one braced in softly sacred vine.
A wreath by day, thou lights heart shrine.
And come the night, Star shine, soul’s brine.
The eyes of Heaven open revered.
Holy, holy, Our Lord comes near.
A hush of prayer bows low sweet with tears.
Father, Abba, Our Lord, He is here.
© 2015 Linda Willows, 2014
Photograph by Enzo Pierazziello