Peter Chapman Poetry

When God Said My Prayer Back To Me

the sky was gray and I tried the day but missed the will or wish.

My mind parted and I heard, as through a vestment kissed
a voice that took what I thought to say, the thanks turned back to me

so what I said might fall and break,
as choirs sang of things, soft and low
singing with a sweet ol sway, without a sound.

I haven't tried, in prayer, to find what is given me,
I haven't tried to know how close I've come You see.

Guided by the fortune of one who gets what's coming

I'm just lazy I guess, cunning.