I Fell Thrice
By: the iHope Poet
Thrice I fell in the murky pond.
The first time, cold it proved to be.
The second fall I didn't mind,
and the third, quite warm
-- and done effortlessly.
The mud I minded right at first,
but once I considered it a stain
'twas easy to take the second fall,
for dirt can build if it's to remain.
When all is said and done, I was not clean.
I left alone the falls I made,
and didn't like the thought of work
to scrub away the thickened stains.
But there is a way to clean them out,
a cleanser, pure with love and hope.
And I shall profit from its hand,
though thrice I fell into the pond
-- for Christ's a cure that understands.
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