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Richer than Gold!

So rich,
so poor –
even the widow
at his door
is sent away
with empty hand.
For himself
he lives –
so small
and mean,
so rich,
so poor!

Unpopular,
I’ll climb a tree –
I cannot see
above the heads
as others
line the street.
Someone
popular
is coming through.
As tax-collector
I must check him out
to be quite sure
what he’s about.
He’ll pay me tax
if I’m not lax.
A celebrity
will make me rich,
O so rich!

But no!
I’m seeing him,
but he sees me.
He knows,
he calls my name.
He bids me come –
he wants to stay
with me today!

Still small,
he grows,
no longer mean.
He gives his half away
to help the poor
and pays by four
his wrongful gain!

He’ll face
a leaner life,
but O so rich!
Richer than gold
or silver
by the friendship
of the Son of God!


© Peter J Blackburn 2004
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