Your Poetry Dot Com - So Treasure Me

I am winters sharp chill,
The frost that hits you like a stiff drink,
I am the awkward thought at the wrong moment,
That makes your vital tool shrink.

But I make you thankful for summer,
A morning you wake and sun greets your eyes,
And overjoyed on the nights when things with her,
Go according to plan with surprise.

I am the voice that rips you to shreds,
Points out you've been on the wrong side with sin,
But then see your relief at the church door,
As the priest opens his arms, beckons you in.

I am your nightmares,
The ghoul in the hood,
That at night makes you treasure
Sweet angels of good

I am all that allows you
To appreciate you're free,
So look at the bigger picture
And treasure me.

This poem is Copyright © phildel