Harps of Gold

The sound of music

Fills the air,

As gentle winds

Strum softly

On the strings

Of harps of gold.

Words golden in tone

Can be heard

Sounding clear

As the music swells

And crashes around,

Sweeping on and on,

In a wealth of song,

Reverberating awesomely

Through the hall

In a crescendo of happiness.

It is eternal sunshine

In the soul.

Come,buoyant heart,

Let us storm

The gates of heaven.

  © Miriam Jacob