IT BEATS ME
By Richard Armour
My wife, who lags behind on hikes,
Whose legs give way at tennis,
Who is, at badminton and bikes,
A hindrance and a menace,
Who groans of trouble with her feet
And slows me down with stopping,
Now strides while I seek out a seat.
What's different? We're shopping.
~> @ <~
Jesus loves me, this I know . . .