ramblings and things

1,019,485 poems read

Confessional

Confession time at St. Charles's,

Two Confessional in use,

But outside the door of each

Two very disparate queues.

Outside that  of the Bishop

A few you could count on one hand,

Outside that of the Monsignor

An ever growing band.

I considered this 

For a little while 

Then asked a woman

Who said with a smile,

The Monsignor and the Bishop

Both good and God fearing

But the Monsignor, bless his soul

Is so very hard of hearing;

Confession is a catharsis,

A purging of the soul

So much easier when the

Confessor doesn't hear it all.

I made a quick decision

The way we fellows do,

And very quickly joined the line of

The Monsignor's growing queue.

Confession time at St. Charles's,

Two Confessional in use

But outside the door of each

Two very disparate queues.



Comment On This Poem ---
Confessional