and her wretched hour
became her famous hour
that time when
she at her
most low
reached out with
quiet desperation
flowing tears testament
to the gutted soul
she lay bare
to Him
He heard her cry
felt her tears
large salty drops on
His feet
noted her passion
amongst those heart sobs
and He reached down
touched her
now matted hair
that had wiped clean
those tears spilt over
His feet
He smiled gently
as she with
hope felt eased
she bent her head again
and anointed Him
with her most precious
ointment.
TK July 2010
I still love this poem Tiff.
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