Poem; Presilla
A page in the diary "My diary"
Written by steffan 12. Nov 2008 02:10 PM
I sell charcoal out the front of my small home
It brings me enough, really its all I’ve known
As every day goes passed I save a little more
Not money but rather little blessings I store
For my body is frail and it’s getting quite old
If I were to put it this way I’d say I’ve been sold
I was given an offer way to good to pass by
My life is not my own each day I again die
One day I was bought at a very costly price
And now I am loved and I will never be lost
So as I sit and wait for someone to come along
I begin so sing a tune of this one sweet song
I’ve always known it ever since I was young
My spirit is lifted every time this song is sung
As I wait repairing my cloths with another stich
I start to think I am poor but really I am very rich