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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 01:32:19 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 7491
[catid] => 1
[aid] => Mick
[title] => His house was empty
[time] => 2002-11-26 08:30:00
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Lord, I called your name.
Shouted my plea again and again Till the echoes came back to me, But nothing more. Lord, I climbed the twenty-nine stairs At your house at twelfth and Bellaire. Your door was locked, No light within, nobody home. The clouds cast shadows as they slide by, All the things I don’t know do make me cry. But I’m alright, don’t worry ‘bout me. Just havin’ my doubts, uncertainty. I met a pretty girl while I was waiting for you. Her eyes were black with the things men do. She took my hand and led me down the stairs. We shared our pain and forgot our cares. Now she’s my wife and I call out your name, I call it out quiet and full of shame. Forgive my doubts, I didn’t understand. Faith isn’t a church, it’s a loving hand. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 159 [topic] => 11 [informant] => darkeyedman [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => ChristianPoetry )
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