I had got my life insured,
Screech less I came out of ordeal,
The hammer machine halted right,
Just in front of my bike.
Who applied the brakes?
It is he every time,
Giving me an opportunity to praise,
For this his gift called life.
In this poem the hammer machine is nothing but a truck taking a sharp turn and it could have crushed me in a friction of a second. God saved me. I thank him for his grace and favor through these lines. May my insurer continue to protect me forever?