With my footprints on the back

He was wearing the wrong kind of clothing
His awkwardness  gave him away
He wore a white mac
With  my footprints on the back
Where forever they will rightly stay,

He went out to Mass on  a Sunday
And confessed all his sins well before.
He  suffered from pride
And many women he eyed.
Whom he gave a warm welcome and more.

The religious folk seem to get tempted
By the sins that they wrongly fear most.
They think of smart asses
And lasses in glasses
When  of their salvation they boast

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About Katherine

I like poetry and history, literature and music.
This entry was posted in Thinkings and poems. Bookmark the permalink.

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