Poetry

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No-one told me, as a child,
To not stake my outcome
On the Park Lane of life:
My family played too many games.
But as an adult, some-one told me
When Jesus has come back
God may say to you:
You've been so busy
With Park Lane and paper
Saving the things of this world,
The things that only perish meaninglessly,
That you've missed me,
Your eternal saviour;
Go past home
Don't collect
Instead go straight to jail
For eternity.
There's no air-conditioners there.
And a fluky roll of the dice
Will not save you.

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