Sunday, April 3, 2016

Impossible Odds

Impossible Odds

My most clever verse,
My essay most terse,
My wisest wise words,
My jests most absurd.

With a flower can not compete,
Nor with the prints of baby feet,
Nor with the scent of a rose,
Nor with the evening sun's soon repose.

Yet some men ponder,
Is there a God up yonder?
If the reverse were true,
I would ponder God too.

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