How Many Times
Times so full of grief and sorrow
Tears fall and feelings so hollow
Woeful days as Mr. Impecunious
Dutifully and lovingly studious
The morrow does not bring relief
Rather just the same emotional thief
Pilfering puny pockets, he strays
One hand fastidious and gay
But he shouts to the sky that is gray
Calls wonders down from heaven's fray
Save me, and shout down from above
Grace envelop and stay his hand's love
Not to be slayed by the thief's churlish touts
Of his winning ways, God surreptiously left out
In my pockets, so empty of radiant doves
With his hammer in hand, I don these holy gloves
Save me
Copyright ©
Tim B | Year Posted 2011
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