Brigid Faye, Reader

And the dawn’s fresh dew,

Announces another day.

I find myself upon a pew,

And I bow down to pray.

And the prayers in my mind,

Seem always to be answered.

In deep prayer I find,

My place in this world is secured.

And the people I pray for,

Are nearly limited to me.

For I am a hardy store

Of pain and misery.

And in prayer I clean it out,

My body gets less heavy.

When the burdens I am without,

I’ll be legendary.