On being charitable, something I have been thinking a lot about recently. Then this thought popped into my head and I just had to write this poem for you…
They swirled about her mind, like a painter’s brush to a colour palette.
It was easy to feel guilty past the presents and grandiose dinner.
From behind brown eyes despair were framed.
Remained dissatisfaction with gold and silver distraction.
She thought about asking God to help.
But, the voices in her head.
The wishing, the longing and the hope.
Perhaps this was prayer.
And as the only one who could hear,
Perhaps she was the one who must answer.