The BookA Poem by Nicholas C. CookThe Book Peter Buchanan was a near faultless boy Did all that he was told Went to Church every Sunday, Down the century-old cobbled road Then one year for his birthday His friends thought, “Let’s play a trick” They all clubbed in together, They thought the words would never stick On the morn of Peter's birthday He was as excited as excited could be! How lovely to receive a gift from his friends How fortunate to be me! A book he thought, what a lovely gift! They knew how much he loved to read It was his favorite pastime, Teacher Francis had planted that seed But as he read, doubt started to creep in Because of all that he had been taught by the Reverend Robinson Had left him with a certain perception of Him And with a frown, as he read Dan Brown He thought, “Could this possibly be?” Has everything the Reverend has taught me, Be anything but holy? And after he lit the fire, And tossed the book within He thought, “At least it won’t be me that is burning” For to question Him must be a sin!
© 2015 Nicholas C. CookFeatured Review
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3 Reviews Added on August 26, 2015 Last Updated on August 27, 2015 AuthorNicholas C. CookJohannesburg, Gauteng (PWV, South AfricaAboutAvid reader with a love for anything outdoorsy. I have a passion for music, both listening to and playing and spend many an hour composing as well. I love meeting interesting people and adore coffee s.. more..Writing
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