Divine Light Poem by Phil Ward

It's a Sunday morning bright and fair
and Christians wander off to mass,
Lining pews all singing where
sunbeams pierce stained window glass.

In the pulpit Father John
preaching of the divine light,
Read from Genesis in the Bible
how we got our day and night.

The congregation were amazed
for as he spoke a light appeared,
Dancing on the roof above them,
Intervention many feared.

At that time Miss Sheila Blige
had dropped her hymn book on the floor,
Bending over to retrieve it
exposed a shiny curved contour.

Father look! The lights reflected,
See it how it jumps and flickers,
The Lord did choose the path projected
Bouncing of Miss Sheila's knickers.