A BRIDLE FOR YOUR TONGUE
Where have you gone, dear boy? Are you sleeping in the very cold, bowing and praying in the alley with your bridled tongue? Have you remembered to say your prayers, dear boy? Are you remembering that we are dust? We were never babies, dear boy, we were nickels for rats, we were cut to thistles, we were big harm and little lies. We were some very foolish sheep, dear boy. We were calling on God in all kinds of dissension and purity. The ice on the river was frozen clear down to the bottom and we wanted to cross with no bridge. We were following Jesus the hard way, dear boy. We only knew where to put the dirty talk. We only knew the best way to be pretty.