Whonce upon a time
A young girl lost her rhyme.
(A young girl, who’s she kidding?
Let’s start this thing again.)
Whonce upon a time
An old gal lost her rhyme,
Her mojo and her rhythm,
No head for algorithms.
She moved from farmland fair
To town where streetlights glare.
She lost her inspiration.
It caused a complication.
Was it buried in a box?
Was it buried with a fox?
(That line does not belong to you,
It’s his who writes of fishes blue.)
The calendar was not about
And from a box did not drop out.
She missed the blog date, this is true.
What would she write? She had no clue.
The stacks of boxes to unpack
Surrounded her like an attack.
Was inspiration buried there?!
Her hands flew up and grabbed some hair.
But then her eyes turned up above
Towards the Father and His love.
The Source of inspiration fine,
Of grace and mercy, so divine.
He held her in His loving hand
And said the He did understand.
And though this month, the blog is gone,
He told her just to carry on.
And next month we will try again,
Me and my Lord, my King, my friend.
“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.”
Lamentations 3:22-23
What a delightful poem and comforting reminder of God's gracious love for us.
ReplyDeleteThank you, dear Sharon, for sharing this lovely gift with us.
Blessings.
Hahahahahaha!!!! I love your sense of humour! Keep on, my friend! This looks inspired to me, so don't worry!
ReplyDeleteWith my many moves I soooo relate Sharon right down to the calendar being lost in a box!! 😂 Great poem. I love how you can bring humour and writing from everything ❤️
ReplyDelete😂 Love this Sharon! Too funny! How did you find time to write a poem with all those boxes surrounding you?!! I’m glad you did! 👍
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