My Kindle cover is not here.
I hid it somewhere very near.
But find it- I cannot.
At Christmas-time a journal given,
There on the shelf- left unwritten.
No, not one single jot.
Early to bed, early to rise.
Tried, but no sleep came to my eyes.
Counting of sheep- forgot.
I’ll get my journal and a pen-
And vent the woes of mice and men:
Frustration is our lot.
The journal in a stack of books.
I took it from its sheltered nook,
Surprise! The case I’d sought!
I thanked the Lord and took the two,
Back to my room to write a few:
Life’s not so bad, I thought.
The Lord had kept me up at night
And even let me lose the fight-
I’ll praise him on my cot.
With Wills 