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Feb 2015
He banged on the door.
He spoke to me with gentle tongue.
All dressed up in his Sunday best suit.
Looked so smart, he left me mute.
He held out to me a fetching hand.
Could I really resist temptations demand.
I invited him in.
I made him sweet tea.
However did he hear about me.
I went to my room and put on a frock.
A pretty floral number.
I thought I rocked.
Together we left the realm of my house.
Outside of my castle, became such a mouse.
He led me tenderly by the hand to the house of God just over the road.
I thought.
What have I to lose, the hymn writers present such powerful muse.
I sat and I listened to the words of the bible.
Made a little sense, but I'm a rebel.
My God is my word,  and I'm sure God don't mind.
After a nice cup of tea the visit was done.
He was gone.
Maybe en-route to my own kingdom come.
I never saw him again.
An atheist I remain.
But I so love the verse of my favourite hymns.
(C) Livvi
Olivia Kent
Written by
Olivia Kent  Southampton, Hampshire.
(Southampton, Hampshire.)   
435
   --- and SΓΈuΕ‚SurvivΓΈr
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