royalwaycommunityjournal.org

by Bob Howells

Like ribbons of rivers flowing to the shore
We stream from afar to reach this magical space
Where merging with you creates the spirit for
Dancers to fly in flourishes of grace

Singers here find voice for the heart’s own prayer
And piano keys free sweet melodies
To the envy of angels’ harps everywhere
That long to touch what we daily receive

Ah, this room, this hallowed hall
Has seen miracles that mortals could not fortell
But you, dear Teacher, animate it all
And train our sights to where divine muses dwell

Here mere mortals we need not only be
For with you we touch the glory of eternity