Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Because She Was Patient With Me

She drips her tea across the floor,
When I’m hot she’s too cold.
She pours her pills into her hand
And spills what she can’t hold.
I try to keep my voice real calm,
I try hard not to scold,
But sometimes I know I sound sharp
When I watch things unfold.
I find myself frustrated, Lord,
By all that I behold,
Then I remember her patience
When I was young and bold.
I school my heart to calm again
 And keep my voice controlled,
For I know some day I will age,
I’ll need help when I’m old.
Please shape those who will care for me
From as patient a mold.

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