Laughter, old friend!  Your power to remind,

your power to teach, your power to rewind

days that have stacked 

like cargo on my back,

but like a child in an open field, 

you and I slip through time.


Fixed at my desk.  Fixed at the wheel.  

Fixed in my heart, a desire to feel some peace in my soul,

some sense of control,

so I turn to The Work,

to bring reason and rhyme.


But The Work is a thief, and The Work never pays.

The Work takes from me, nearly all of the days

that I hand over, each time

in hopes It will align,

all that lacks in my frame

with all He has designed.


But Laughter… my teacher.  You show me what I’ve lost.

I built it, indeed!  But oh God, at what cost!?


What burdens have I held that were not mine to bear?

What worries I’ve made habit, were not mine to care?

What lines on my face, that will always remain

should have been wrinkles of laughter…


instead, they wrinkled from pain.


Oh, Laughter! So curious, the nature of your voice.

For one laughs out of compulsion, never genuinely by choice!

You erupt from the soul, like a hidden truth,

buried like a diamond,

then dancing like the youth

I’d forgotten years ago when so little I knew…


So, so little I owned!

So, so much to be learned! 

and so much to be wrought

and still, in the midst of so little, 

I never once had to be taught…


how to laugh!!

I’ve always known how.  


As if by design…


As if God himself wove into me this chosen little rhyme,

like an echo from his heart,

like a chorus from his song

that would command me, though I worry,

and remind me I belong


To the One who is Happy.

To the One who made laughter.

Who made my smile, and smiles on me

both now, and ever after.


And now, I sit at my desk.  Next to me, my children play.

Where is their list?  Where is their planner today?!

They are learning, they are growing, and in their way… they even work!


They build, they create, 

they design, they calculate,


they sweat, and they strengthen

all the while, I hear laughter…


But me… it is Control that I am after.


Oh, Control… you deceptive little phantom, who’s promises are empty!

I turn from you now!!…  Back to my God of Plenty…

Back to The Father of Laughter

Whose Kingdom invites…all children


even me…


even me…


the one in whom He delights!!

Keeton CoffmanComment