T’was the Day After Easter

T’was the day after Easter and all through the house

The only one still looking for candy was the mouse.

He came across a stash the children had missed

If he’d seen the Easter Bunny he’d have given his kiss.

He started with the chocolate, who would blame him?

The eggs proved a challenge, their shells were not thin.

The hours did swirl from the jelly bean buzz

He ate them for no reason other than just ‘cuz.

As he lounged in the wrappers, all empty and bare

His guilt niggled at him. Should he have shared?

His thoughts began thinking: Is this the real reason?

Didn’t Jesus have something to do with this season?

How did a rabbit end up with the hype?

Then he realized: that’s not even my type.

The Lord gave His life for all of the people

Now some of them go to a house with a steeple.

If Jesus only died that would be the end

But, Easter was proof over death  He did win.

He came back to life as the King in this matter.

He went up to Heaven without needing a ladder.

This new life He offers to all who believe

There’s no need to work for it, only receive.

His grace overflows to everyone, Y’all.

There’s no need to beg or to plead or to crawl.

You need only accept that this death He endured

Was done for your life, so you can be pure.

There’s not enough money to give Him for this

You need only believe Him to receive His sweet kiss.

He’s waiting in Heaven for you and me now

Building us mansions to welcome us home.

So, what do you say? Will you take up His offer?

There’s only your one life to wake up or suffer.

Eternity’s waiting. Please make no mistake.

Where you spend your forever is your choice to make.

There’s peaceful and happy with Jesus as King,

Or fire and agony with darkness and pain.

I plead with you now to think long and hard, friend.

You only have one chance to decide where you’ll end.

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If you enjoyed that you should visit my real blog. I wrote a more in-depth meaning of the Easter season in poetic fashion. I don’t usually write poetry. There must be some form of poetry pollen in the north Texas air. I call that poem: This Cry For Love.

Keep smiling.   Wade

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