All she has

A poor old woman, once there was.

Her husband long since dead.

She worked her fingers to the bone

To keep her family fed.

She labored for each meal they ate.

And daily did she strive

To scant produce what they need most

And keep them all alive.

No Bible did she ever own.

From sermons that she’d heard,

Though sometimes they’d no food to eat,

She fed them with the Word.

She early rose each Sabbath morn.

And walking while she’d sing.

She trod a mile in worn out shoes

To make her offering.

She didn’t stop to think of what

Tomorrow held in store.

Through tears she prayed, “I love you God.

I wish I could give more. ”

Some rich folk, showing their disdain

and overflowing pride,

laughed when they saw the woman put

her last two cents inside.

Each week she gives all that she has

Because she loves the Lord.

And since she gives all from the heart

She earns a grand reward.


The Battle

Listen to me my friends,

And the story that I tell.

I’m sure a few of you,

Have a story just as well.

Mine is about the woman,

Whom I took for my bride.

How she turned my love to pain,

No matter how hard I tried.

Now I’ve stood up in battle,

Never daunted always proud.

Even in my losses,

The lord knows I never cowered.

But when my woman let me,

It dropped me to my knees.

I begged her for mercy,

My voice heard only by the breeze.

Her weapon was my love for her

And with this she blinded me.

She then tore my heart out

Cast my soul into the sea

No counter attack,

No time for a retreat.

I knew not of the battle,

So I was already beat.

So I say to you my friends.

Before you live love a try.

Remember my story

And if you should lose as I.

The pain of love will haunt you

Until the day you die.

Write to me:

Clinton Everett

J-76643 310-1-19U Po box 9

Avenal, CA 93204