If You Won’t Hold Your Horses, Who Will?

Buddy hilled up them beans.

Piled them into an issue.

Buddy now needed a tissue.

Clear those tears from his eyes.

Prayers topped off with “whys…”

Why me Lord?

Buddy would ask.

He’d been passed

By the good life.

A pass became a slight.

Like, life sure hates me!

Buddy could not see

He was passing him by.

Those tears he wanted dried

Were cried by him.

He could not win, because

Buddy stood in his way.