There must be somethingupon the hill, when crescent whispers to shadows, trees stretch each tip, and owls halt on the branches. There must be somethin...
I'M DREAMING OF THE WHITE CHRISTMASI'm dreaming of the white ChristmasJust like the ones I used to know.The tree tops glisten and childrenListen to ...
What kind of world is it my friendthat little children see?I wonder if they see God firstbecause they just believe?Do they see strength in caring eyes...