The Crown I Wear

Always at least

a little crooked

when I remember

to wear it…

often forgotten

in the dirt

nearly trampled…

sometimes buried

under the misery

that comes in

the dead of night

the light of morn

to spoil the good

to compound the bad…

there are times

I toss it aside

convincing myself

it’s too heavy

too pristine

too not me


it is always

cleaned spotless…

replaced just so

on my head

time after time…

time after time…

my Father is the King…

He never tires

of reminding me

I am His princess…

and I am beautiful.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s