Poetry

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The Man,  and the clothes very ordinary i suppose,know's all about life's throes
from days gone by learns to comply;some sense could gravity condense,
there is no way so what can you do,words may get mixed up in astew;
make it up fore heat gets tired,some words are hot,others are cold,some
old yet good for the brain,have been told;not to forget stair's,morning,
noon,and nightime's prayers,some say our world is like a top that spins;
Pray The Good LORD;will forgive me all of my many sins,avoidence of all
terror, may crack anyone's image in the mirror,everyone's in pices,
terror is man's fatal error, mankind's face saved by GOD'S OWN GRACE,
amen embrace, hope we all find our place.
Joe.

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