Home » Poems » Wanda Daugherty » The Bucket

The Bucket

I had a little bucket;
I took it with me everywhere.
It held the things I needed;
So I guarded it with care.

That I had a little bucket,
Is more important than it seems,
For it held all my ambitions;
And all my hopes and dreams.

I put in a bit of courage;
Though I haven't very much,
And some faith and perseverance.
Some love, and joy and such.

I went about my business;
Trusting in the meager store
Which I carried in my bucket,
I did not ask for more.

Then there came a dark foreboding,
Oh, it was a bitter cup,
When I reached into my bucket,
And found I'd used the contents up.

I no longer have a bucket,
For I do the best I can
Not to trust my own devices;
But to trust my God and fellow man.

For we can not see tomorrow;
But we trust what we can't see,
I do not need a bucket;
I have found the hidden key.

anxietychristianconfidenceconflictconfusionrhyme

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