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A Sure Cure

by Deborah Ann Belka

Having a rotten day,
you know the kind I mean
when all you want to do
is pull your hair and scream.

Feeling like a Ferris wheel,
never know when you'll stop
but, you're pretty certain
it will be at the top.

Nothing's working out,
things not coming together
fell like a volley ball
without a tether.

Can't catch your breath,
with all the running around
spinning in circles
just like a merry-go-round.

Well, I understand,
really I do . . .
someday's I get woozy
just like you.

But, I have a sure cure,
for every kind of bad day
before I get up, I look up . . .
and to God ~ I just pray!

Psalm 121:1

“I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills,
from whence cometh my help.”

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Click Here to contact Deborah Ann Belka to request permission to use this poem.