There are days when I stumble,

my thoughts are all a jumble,

and Henry says I mumble.

I feel as if I’ll stumble

and hope I do not tumble.

It seems everything I bumble

in my quest to be as humble

as I can, is jumbled as

I grumble, fumble, mumble, and crumble.

1 comments on “quest
  1. hetty/heather cowan says:

    I love that poem Kathy

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