Linda Winchell Poems

Why is there so little anxiety?
To get some time to pray?
And why so little forethought,
To secure a portion of your day?
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Don't let the sun go down on anger,
For its' darkness will never fade.

Anger eats at the Soul of man,
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I have a Spirit that leads me here,
Doing all that God does say.

I find myself prayer-fully bound,
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I'm putting things in order now,
Of the things I've bound self of.

I'm matching up the socks I own,
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We live in a house of strangers',
There are neighbors' never known.

We pass by homes they live in,
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I've got a lot of God Stuff,
That I tend to put aside.

I need to see I get too it,
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When does something meant for good,
Become too much for one to handle?

Empathy is a part of Humanities D.N.A.,
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Too little too late to say, 'I.m Sorry, '
Too little too late to turn things around.

Too little too late for God's day is upon us,
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Some of us seem to want to always help,
Jumping out to those opened hands of prey.
But you may be interfering with God's plan?
And just be getting in God's way.
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I asked you put away your baggage,
Before you walked into my life.
I had enough of my own to carry
before you asked me to be your wife.
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