A Tiny Nail and a Rusty Bolt

On a sill behind some glass
in the elevator that I ride each day,
in the rock-steady edifice
where I park my car,
there is a tiny nail that leans on a rusty bolt.

The nail and the bolt have been there
since I started work ten years ago.
They have become my friends
and I have named them
Tiny Nail and Rusty Bolt.

I have come to believe that so long
as the building does not shake,
and the glass does not break
and I see Tiny Nail and Rusty Bolt each day,
I'll be OK.

Come join with me, and pray with me,
that I will see, my faithful friends,
Tiny Nail and Rusty Bolt
during each of my working days
this year.