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Being Saved (a brief poem)

Being Saved


Mornings and coins are dropping from the sky

or is that sun trying to save me for a rainy day

I've been saved many times and it gets to me

on Sunday that I should be somewhere

the days weave a tapestry and the nights

pour like coffee from that clear container

at first I thought the beginning of  a year

would once again save me from the past

but I carried it over like sick days

when the memory is thick as honey

at first I thought I'd be spoken for

by Jesus but the riot in my head

said keep your distance

I've been saved by the gleam

in Phil's eye when everything is

coming up sky.




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