| My First and Last Poem for Christ by Bob Boston The Christians arrived today, just as they always do every Saturday night to feed the homeless. I'd truly forgotten what it's like to eat a holiday meal. It was a Memorial Day weekend inside cook-out. Hot dogs with baked beans, collard greens, and mashed potatoes with plenty of beef gravy. The Christians are like clock-work. They make certain everyone's dish is piled high and that every man gets seconds and sometimes thirds. The Christians never ask for anything in return except for a thank you and a hearty handshake as hearty as - the dinner. I know they secretly wish they could save some of us along the way, as any practicing Christian might be inclined to do. They're all hoping we'll eventually see the light, and come - to Jesus. And although none of the men, including me may ever accept Jesus Christ as a personal Lord and Savior what with all the beans they fed us, a good amount of us may very well see plenty of lights flashing on and off late tonight while shouting Christ's full name - out loud. |
|
© 2007 prickofthespindle.com |
Bob Boston is a poet residing on the East Coast. He has been writing for several |