Here is a poem I worked on tonight:
Old Habits
Old habits. Please, what kind of thing are they?
Settled, regular practices. That’s what they are.
Why do habits hinder the way,
Like stickers on a beautiful hillside?
Human nature, a preacher would say.
Old unhappy habits die hard, hard, hard,
While sincere resolutions emerge stillborn.
Bad habits love to stick and stay here.
How to shake one? Not through private hope.
Only with pluck, prayer, and a powerful heart.
Mr. Grenham showed us your poem about what yellow is like. Good work!
Love,
Daddy
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