That Thought I Repress
Poetry Soup, I now confess,
Passing would bring me misery
That thought I surely should repress!
O God, be merciful to me.
Lost place to care, lost place to grow.
Lost friends, which share their poetry.
Around in circles I would go.
O God, be merciful to me.
Without the soup, my heart would cry.
Dilly-dallying, fixed ably
Would cause my life to go awry.
O God, be merciful to me.
My troubled mind would soon regress.
In sadness I would walk grimly.
My thoughts might fall to senselessness.
O God, be merciful to me.
My anguished soul would flood with tears.
My happy thoughts would loose their glee.
Blessed by the soup these many years.
My God, has been merciful to me.
© February 20, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
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