She’s always busy in the mornings, and I just know she’s already at the bakery, taking on all the responsibilities herself. An octopus in the kitchen, she somehow has enough arms and hands to make donuts, brew coffee, and shape biscuit dough at the same time.
Next, you stop at the plasticware shop and press the shopkeeper for a deal—you are buying not one but six plastic jars after all. On the way home, as the rickshaw swerves along the narrow streets, your thoughts do, too.
I saw just one set of footsteps, which told me
I was being carried by the Lord, even though
I was suffering, you know?