O Lord, I have made you a place in my heart
Among the rags and the bones and the dirt.
There's piles of lies and averted eyes and
Old moving boxes full of hurt.
I've tried to clean up the place, I know its a discrace,
You get used to it after a while-
With the flood and the drought and old pals hanging out
with there IOU's and their smiles.
O Lord, why does the fall get colder each year?
And why can't I learn to love?
Lord, If you made me than its easy to see
that you all make mistakes up above.
8 years ago
2 comments:
I like this dreaded poem and I must say it seems to ring true at different points in life.
Nice array of blog posts. Those were good times playing baseball out back. You missed out on a pretty cool italian reunion. Tony didn't make it either. Good food though, and good times. They all felt like family.
Did you write the poem?
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