It seemed the easier way to go, the path was smooth and the
stones were few, the mountains and valleys viewed from afar. But
then the path became crooked, the mountains closer, the valleys deeper.
The wounded steps sharper, knocking on
doors with no answers!
The stone in my shoe is small
“He will go before ‘us’ and make the
hardly noticeable at all
How it got there no one knew
Over time it grew and broke in two
I hadn’t a clue what to do
I even tried wax and glue
Maybe if I got a new pair of
shoes that would do, but
the smooth stone became sharper causing pain
walking on uneven terrain
* * * *
There is One who knows our steps
crooked places straight…
the rough places smooth”
Donna's Poetry Blog 