Would that I were humble, with no hint of pride
Then I’d have no need to have this hint of guilt inside!
I write these daily poems as a way of meditation
And I try to tell myself that it is my oblation.
But if this is an offering why am I concerned
That any folk will like them or that some praise is earned?
I know that I am human and have my share of faults
And, if I try to cure them, my mind just somersaults!
Lord, I am just thankful that you’ve loved me from my pram
Even when I’m so puffed up, and boastful, as I am!
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