It's Easter - Poem by Connie Yost
My eight year old feet were winging,
Barely touching the newly turned sod.
My exuberant heart was singing,
Spontaneous praises to God.
Back home with my loved ones at last!
Thank you, dear Father on high!
Those ravaging hours have past,
It's Easter! Jesus lives! !
And so do I! !
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about It's Easter by Connie Yost
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.