So keen to try,
I handle life with pride
Until one day it slips
Between my hands
And crashes down
Around me.
Shattered
I wait for God
To cry, and shout,
"I told you so!"
Instead He stoops
To where I fall
And, picking up
The broken parts,
He says, "Don't cry.
It's only earthenware,
That's all."
[This poem was written by Alma Balmer. I found it in the notice board outside the Church.I liked it so I thought I'd put it up]
