Stitches In Time Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Some skins shed, stray, when Fortune spins flawed dice,
One moment white they pray, the next play black,
May here run hot, cold there, protect p[l]ayback
Expected to reward their wayward vice.
They one day feel real cause for 'yea' concise,
Heart lost then costs may chart, 'nay' reason, lack
Intrinsic worth, commitment, cards they stack,
Now twinge, now cringe, unmanned in land of mice.
Grows [s]he who glows true faith, to Paradise
IS constant, caring, bearings keeps on track,
ROws through Fate’s flows, knows never cul-de-sac,
Tries, wise, to seed, weeds out, flouts bad advice?
Temptations easy lead to queasy ride,
ENduring strength most fickle fools deride.