You're the spark that lights the fire; You're the chill that makes champagne. You're the voice that lifts the choir; You're the blood that fills the vein. You're the only bird that can't be pigeonholed; You have a heart that always understands. You're not just the rainbow, you're the pot of gold -- When God made you, He used both hands. If lies are snow, then you're the plow; If hate's the wall, then you're the fist. What you don't have, you don't need now; Where you can't go, does not exist. You're the only answer that can silence Job; You're the shoreline tree where Noah's last dove lands -- If souls have countries, you're the globe. When God made you, He used both hands. All heads turn as you walk by. All cars stop when you hit the street. Grouches see you and happily sigh. Strangers throw gifts at your feet. You're the star on top of every Christmas tree. You're the green oasis in Sahara sands -- A man born blind can plainly see When God made you, He used both hands. Your smile's as nourishing as milk; Your voice has more music than ten bands. You wear your years like pearls on silk -- When God made you, He used both hands.
Copyright 2011 Matthew J Wells