Poetry

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for  all the why's  ,look to the skies,and for all the tries make our Earth the size;Moon's not forgot
the Sun is so hot,we surely know who made the lot,prose easy to write;my pen stands by be it  day
or night,if it needs a nudge;won't bear a grudge,words are waiting to become our judge,include,
exclude,some are too rude,simple words like good,or strong,do i know here i come from,from
ample prose to complex man,new ords have yet to find their way,as peace and harmony may say,
well bless my soul;am still in play,GOD MAKES EACH DAY;how many more my prose might or may;
begin to pray,no better way;how short is day,its lifes own way.
Joe.

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