Poetry

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Is our life so strange,because of change;if i stand beside a tree,
how many branches would reflect this me that i may be,within the
tree no voice is heard,the branches are the tree's own hands
showing forth what may come our way,lessons are a self made play,
the star i see comes from where;it hails from where GOD made each
sphere;all life began and times a plan it intervenes knows all our
scenes,thanks be to GOD WHO GIVES OUR DAILY BREAD,without HIS
GRACE,am just a worn out thread,my wandering stops in life i
knocked.
Joe.

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