With love from Potchefstroom

To be honest he wasn’t doing anything.
Siting there next to me,
holding the universe together.
 
He wasn’t much of a rich boy.
He didn’t even have a job,
and still gave me all my heart ever desired.
 
He wasn’t a saint,
In fact the alcohol always tasted good to him,
and he still taught me to pray in church.
 
He wasn’t the smartest.
No desire to read a book,
Yet he gave me ambition.
 
To be honest I never even did anything.
Just sitting there right next to him,
With a completed world.

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Robert L. Martin
over 4 years

He doesn't have to be a saint as long as you love each other. Nice poem. Glad to read your writing again.

Shemené Kok
Shemené Kok
over 4 years

I know, thank you Mr Robert, really appreciate you reading my soul.

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