A Poor Advent Poem

‘Twas the morning of Advent
And all through the church
Most folks were abuzz
With a few on a search.
The trees, they were lit up;
The words were just right.
But something was missing—
The mood was too light.
What connection have hula-hoops
With a season so sacred?
The searchers were puzzled,
And some were deflated.
While searching for peace
And a wee bit of quiet,
It was noise they were met with,
And they did not buy it!
They left a bit tearful
Feeling strange and alone.
Though met with festivity,
They weren’t in the zone.
So back to their homes
They thoughtfully drove.
And in the hours that followed,
One wrote this poor poem.
Just what it has come to
The poet did wonder
And planned to spend time
To prayerfully ponder.

"Let every heart prepare Him room."


Writing a Song a Week #3

Writing a Song a Week #3
♪ I wait for the Lord; my soul waits and in his word I hope. My soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen for the morning ♪ (Psalm 130:5-6)