Posted in Poetry

Worry by L. M. Montes

I sat on the beach and counted grains of sand,
but then the wind took them
and they flew from my hand,
perhaps I should refrain,
from acting in disdain,
some things should not be counted
just enjoyed from day to day.

The little things that worry crawl and bite like ants,
but then a shoe stomped them
and they fell from my pants,
perhaps I should rely,
on Jesus not the lie,
because He is the only one
to help me when I cry.

By L. M. Montes