Poetry

Yesterday evening a mother from the local school turned up at my door with a package addressed to me that had been violently torn open. Her son had found it in a dry creek bed near my home. It had evidently been stolen from my letterbox, and discarded when the thief discovered the contents.

The contents?

Well, a book sent to me by the father of a member of the congregation.

The title of the book?

In My Place Condemned He Stood.

Poetry