Thank You Jesus Poem by Buxton Shippy

It comes at a set time
every month.
You get used to It
until It does not come.

Then all the 'what ifs'
flood your mind.
You cannot sleep
because the 'what ifs'
steal your peace.

Suddenly, a still voice
says don't vent on the wife.
Don't vent on the children,
just stay pray-up
until the 'what ifs'
go away.

I yielded to the voice
and my mind steadied.
So much so,
I am able to write
this poem.
Thank you Jesus!