There is no rhyme or reason. It all comes out the same. No matter who it falls on, No matter who’s to blame; The angst and pain remain. Rant and rave at God, Pray to Jesus in repent. You have to onward plod And accept what you’ve been sent- ‘Though you feel your heart be rent. Now recover from the fall Pick yourself up off the floor Take a deep breath, stand up tall. Kick the black dog out the door Come on- you’ve done it all before. By Carole Prickett