Each one of us has a birthday -

a day to call our own;

The day we came into this world -

our future, to us, unknown.

The way we spend that day, each year,

means little, if we know

God has a plan for you and me

and into it we grow.

My birthdays, always quiet -

no bells and whistles blow;

I remember the life breathed into me

and whispers say, "Now go!"

It was seventy-three years ago today

that God knew I should live;

I listen every day to hear

what it is that I am to give.

Perhaps I was sent to just look around,

to listen, smell, and touch

The things that make God's perfect garden -

the one I love so much.

I liken life to a garden -

with flowers, fruit and weeds;

I think if tended carefully

it will lead to many good deeds.

So on this day that God made mine

and all the gifts bestowed;

I cast away the weeds from my mind

and travel along life's road.

Life always has a purpose -

something we cannot see;

But this I know - when God calls me home,

His arms will welcome me.

©Joan Adams Burchell

July 19, 2005

Inspirational Poetry