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A Short Prayer
You called my spouse from me my Lord and God,
But I still live in an apartment house,
Where none would take a note nor find it odd
If I were all too quiet in a drowse.
Computers, this you know Lord, they help not
With none that will to messages reply,
If someone lies upon a bed or cot,
And none to overhear for help a cry.
Don’t call me Lord I pray when I am home,
Where my poor mortal coil for months would rot,
I keep a treasure ‘neath a glassy dome,
An oak wood urn, please keep it safe dear Lord!
But if you wish to call me, then I plead,
Please let it happen on a subway seat,
Or better still, a very busy street,
So that some passer-by may notice it.
AMEN
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This is short indeed, but with a long (eternal effect). i love this,
MD