'Lord, teach us to pray'. Luke Ch. 11.

I am off to bed, exhausted;
Been a long and busy day.
But just before I lay my head,
Lord, teach me how to pray?

I'd hardly thought the question when
A knock came to my door,
And on the doorstep stood a friend,
A hungry one what's more.

Some visitors had cleaned me out,
My shelves an utter lack.
I lent him slippers, poked the fire,
And dodged out of the back.

I hadn't had a worry till
He knocked me up, quite rude,
And now it seems that it is me
In desperate need of food.

My neighbour sounded bolshie when
I called up, from the street,
And said, "Push off, I'm up in bed,
Don't trouble me for meat."

"A friend has come, he's hungry, and
He's sitting by my fire.
It's me, not him, now short of food.
Three loaves, and I'll retire."

(Yes me, it seems, now short of food
Which doesn't seem quite fair,
While he relaxes by my fire
And doesn't have a care)

The bread I needed landed
And I quickly ran away,
Emerging from the kitchen. But ....
I now know how to pray.

This poem was a finalist in the October 2016 poetry contest