Poem -
Jesus lives in my tree house
There's a tree house in my back garden
and Jesus lives there,
I leave him milk and cookies every night
on a picnic blanket;
but I wish he would come down
and give me some guidance,
because there's somewhere I've got to be
but I am clueless,
my mind is mixed up
and I don't know which voice to follow,
I just don't seem to be able to get to my destination,
I need the man in the tree house;
for direction,
so that I will know which road to follow,
which way is home,
Jesus lives in my tree house,Ā
he just never comes down.
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Comments
Maybe he doesn't like cookies, Barry.
Hey, I gotta great idea.
Invite Jesus down for smores and roasted wieners. Tell the Almighty that you're also gonna tell ghost stories around the fire.
That outta do the trick!
~Dean Kuch
Good idea,had to Google smores,never heard of them before
Really?
Man, you don't know what you're missin'!
~DeanĀ :)
Just realised we had them in Wales for years,we call them marshmallow wafers