Larger than a hamlet,
     but smaller than a town,
Almostville sits near the foot
     of a range of hills
          not quite mountains,
And close to the coast,
     but not nearly enough
          to see the ocean.

Years and years passed, but
     almost nothing changed.
Anything new always seemed,
     too good to be true.

Citizens said they believed
     in God, but didn't really.
Doctors reported nearly yearly
     they almost cured the cold.

Fridays ended each week,
     but weekends never came.
The clock in the village square
     never struck at midnight.

Visitors always window shopped,
     but not one bought a thing.
Saplings were carefully watered,
     but into trees didn't grow.

Children seemed very happy,
     though without a smile.
Sadness surely came and went,
     but no one ever cried.

So many stories to be told,
     but no one even dared.
Songs sat on many a lip,
     but not a one was shared.

The little village that could,
     though never ever did;
Almostville's not on a map,
     but it's nevertheless true,
          we all know the way,
Where folks want the best,
     but because of their fear,
          almost, alone, is all
               they'll ever hold
                    near and dear.┬╣

*Mark 12:34...Jesus said to the scribe in response to how wisely he answered Jesus' earlier question: "You are not far from the kingdom of God." Ironically, the scribe was unaware he was standing before the Truth, the Life and the Way into the kingdom of God. He was literally almost there. And all he needed to do was believe. Almost tongue and cheek, the scribe in truth, was indeed "not far" from the kingdom of God itself.

┬╣inspired by Pastor Stephen Arterburn in his foreward to Steve Poe's book, Creatures of Habit

by J Alan R
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