Just a brief blog tonight. I am really beat from all the standing and fixing for tomorrow's family Easter dinner. Also had to get the Easter baskets all set to hide for the little ones to find. Was attempting to watch a movie but kept falling asleep so thought I'd best get the latest poem posted to the ol' blog. I do want to wish all of you a very happy and joyful Easter. Joy, indeed, is what Easter is all about for on that Easter Sunday so many years ago the final act of Jesus' life here on earth was His resurrection. The salvation that He bought for us as a result of that act assures us of Heaven. We are truly a blessed people.
As I pondered The Fall of a week or so ago I couldn't help but find the humor in it. Hope you get a laugh out of it as well.
By Patty Lynn
When someone says they FELL real hard
Describing love in bloom,
And then that feeling grows until
For others there’s no room…
A love like that is envied, too.
We all would wish the same,
That cupid’s arrow sought us out
And then called out our name.
This kind of FALL is positive,
A pleasant word, I pose.
But TAKE A FALL, that’s something else,
Brings with it only woes.
That kind of fall I know too well.
I’ve lived it and it’s maddening.
You’d think my body’s squishiness
Would guarantee soft landing.
Without fair warning I fall down.
The last one was a doozy.
I hit my head (on the garage)
And sat up rather woozy.
Then off I went to the ER,
Was questioned till I lost it.
“How would you rate your pain, my dear?”
Each I and T they crossed it!
“Your cut requires a stitch or two,
But really we don’t do that.
We’ll close it up with super glue,
In essence we’ll just glue that.”
“You’re good as new, now off you go.”
Was what they said when finished.
I smiled; I tried to feel like new
My heart just wasn’t in it.
The next day things had gotten worse.
The swelling was horrendous.
Although my cut was sealed up,
My pride could not be mended.
You see, so many years ago,
My mother fell a lot.
Of all the legacies I’d get,
How come this one I got?
And so it is, another fall,
Though I can’t say, “Poor me.”
For many more are bound to come,
Just like my Mom before me.