The Jumble at The Bottom of My Wardrobe
 by Malc Seaman

I've tried to clear it out before
but it keeps on coming back,
it seems to come from high "up there"
and slips through every crack.

It should be hanging tidily
upon the long straight rail
but crumpled, lies like sin confessed
when once again I fail.

The hangers are designed to make
the fitting of my shirts
seem nice and neat, shoulders strong
but merely cover hurts.

The wardrobe door is really like
the door into my life
It hides the things best not seen
(except of course, my wife).

But when God finally tidies up
the wardrobe of my soul
I'll be complete, hanging neat and
clean and pressed and whole.