The SermonA Poem by The Winter Grey To a dream, and a collectively held breath. Opening prayer, all are called to attention. She fights back a shiver of apprehension.
The young preacher greets the room with a grin. Forgive me, Father, for I fear I shall sin.
...he addresses the crowd...
"Tell me of truth, for you hide it so well. Tell me of love, and how far that you fell."
She bites down on her lip, desire betrayed. A front row saint with her sins on display.
She longs for his touch, too strong to object. His fingertips tracing the nape of her neck.
...she nearly whispers aloud...
"Tell me of passion, and the hearts it set free. Tell me of love, and whether you feel it for me."
He swallows hard and then straightens his tie. Lost to the fervor he sees in her eyes.
He cannot bring himself to look away. Helpless before her, a powerless prey.
She clutches her cross and begs God for direction. He closes his eyes and is consumed by the question.
...to neither, a pause of doubt...
"Tell me of Jesus, does He let this one stand? Are even the guilty guided to love by His hand?" © 2012 The Winter GreyAuthor's Note
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Added on April 24, 2012Last Updated on April 24, 2012 Author
The Winter GreyCoffeevilleAboutName: Dalton Lee Marks Age: Unknown Height: Quite short. Weight: Quite light. Hair: Black, curly, too long for its own good. Eyes: Light blue, encircled by a halo of darker blue. Rel.. more..Writing
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