Friday, September 9, 2011

expectations


I thought it was a roma bean
and it tasted horrible
I thought it was a lima bean
and it tasted sweet
I thought it was a magic bean
and it gave me a stalk
with angels ascending
and descending
and I prayed for grace 
to climb with no expectations,
but to know and love Him more,
to receive each bean as a gift,
each gift as a seed.

2 comments:

In Medias Res said...

Natasha, I love this poem so much. I kind of want to post it on facebook. :)

Tim

Natasha said...

I'm glad you like it Tim! None of my stuff is ever copyrighted! And if you ever want to pretend you wrote it....well, that's between you and God. haha, but I like yours too much to suggest that.