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Zach by Albert Watson My name is Zach, And on looking back, I wasn't nice to know. Here are the facts, I collected tax, my morals where quite low. They hated me, Understandably, You see, I worked for Rome. With cash I took, Outside the book, I built a lovely home. Curiosity, Made me climb a tree, This healer, was passing through. He stopped nearby, And caught my eye, 'I'm having tea with you.' Oh what a man, This sinner now can, Believe He is Divine. On Him I leant, Saw the need to repent. 'Zacheaus son your mine.' |
 This poem was a finalist in the February 2010 poetry contest |
Please contact Albert Watson at "albwat@talktalk.net" to request permission to use this poem.