Prayers and thoughts for you.

Music, when soft voices die
by Percy Bysshe Shelley


Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory,
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.

Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the beloved's bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.

God bless you and keep you...

A friend recently suffered a loss. I am praying for her and her family and asking you to do the same.