She strolled into the house of the holy.
Face filled with misery.
Drops down on her humble knees.
Begging forgiveness.
From one who is not there.
So,
How can one be convinced
That meeting and greeting at the end of her world.
Her maker will be met.
A hand-shaker maybe to welcome her in.
As if business meeting almost begins.
Discuss over coffee,
Mortal sins.
Mulls over who loses.
And who in hell wins.
Who drinks from the famous half full up cup.
Perceiving, believing that nobody knows.
Is heaven a rumour?
For heaven she weeps!
This is just a poem...just a bundle of words.
Words come when I'm tired and I don't want to waste them!
By ladylivvi1
© 2014 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 7:57 PM UTC
She strolled into the house of the holy.
Face filled with misery.
Drops down on her humble knees.
Begging forgiveness.
From one who is not there.
So,
How can one be convinced
That meeting and greeting at the end of her world.
Her maker will be met.
A hand-shaker maybe to welcome her in.
As if business meeting almost begins.
Discuss over coffee,
Mortal sins.
Mulls over who loses.
And who in hell wins.
Who drinks from the famous half full up cup.
Perceiving, believing that nobody knows.
Is heaven a rumour?
For heaven she weeps!
This is just a poem...just a bundle of words.
Words come when I'm tired and I don't want to waste them!
By ladylivvi1
© 2014 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
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