poem poems

A Little Sin

The village chapel shaped my childhood days,
and many times I put aside my prayer
to stare at saints and candlelight displays.
Because that little boy was always there
and liked to glance at me, I loved to wear
my Sunday yellow dress with satin lace,
to feel his eyes on me in sacred space.
If I should weed my heart of little lies
to taste the Host and show an angel's face,
my sin was to admire those loving eyes.

  

Poems: A page of Rosa Clement´s site
© (1999)