The Little Church

The Little Church short poem

They arrived through the morning post
The father, son, and the holy ghost
They raised their flag. I raised a toast
To all the wretched sinking souls
And so we built our little church
A little store to peddle hope
It always had an open door
For all the wretched sinking souls
One by one the sinners came
Bringing in their old reports
The son played saviour. I played host
To all the wretched sinking souls
I guess we went bit overboard
With sinners on our tiny boat
Our little church, it lost its float
And sank in with the sinking soul.

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Reyvrex Questor Reyes

That is why Noah closed the door of the Ark. The wretched sinking souls may just overwhelm the buoyant capacity of the lone “flotilla” that the ark was. .


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