Mrs Preddy

Mrs Preddy wasn't ready a fragile woman, at best unsteady no little ones to call her own just her and Mr P alone but a heart so big; it had to share she needed some to give her care she gave her all to pass the faith but in the end, she lost her ways twelve preteens in her Sunday School pushed her down the rabbit hole she tried to teach them in her home for at the church, her mind did roam to places, far and wide and vast from the future to the distant past she made them milk and cookies too she helped their minds and souls accrue but on the road to Bethlehem, old voices did again proclaim she shut the doors; the curtains tight the house was locked from day til night her flock was taken back to school for children follow adult's rules but in those cold and dingy rooms the stories took on doom and gloom no joy when Jesus raised the dead just reverence and maybe dread something to fear instead of love not from the heart, just from above her congregation soon thinned out to throw and kick the ball about while Mrs P sat all alone and God waits still, upon his throne