I'm at my desk feeling such peace; strange but true.
Raindrops fall outside my large window with a view.
The leaves are barely hanging onto the tree,
and the reflection in my mirror resembles me.
As I surround myself with personal possessions,
Some of my coworkers believe I have an obsession
They're just candles, photos, flowers and dreams.
Imagine the emptiness, how strange would that seem?
For nineteen years, I've worked in this place.
The lack of passion is written on my face.
The Lord has a place for me, He's yet to reveal.
I can hear Him whispering, my child be still