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(Preterition = the act of passing by or over; omission; disregard, in this case, charity)

Who can accuse him of lacking charity?
He felt the rain, cold and dank, too many people
without shelter, poorly dressed, wet and shivering.
I’d rather not talk about it. I’m like everyone else.
No one smelt the squalor of a place forgotten by mankind.
So he retired to his beautiful warm mansion.

Who can accuse him of lacking charity?
He knew well enough what charity meant.
A woman, beautiful and sick trembled in front of his house.
Inadequate clothes covered her body thin.  She coughed.
Some drops of blood dribbled down her cheeks.
I'm cold she murmured. But cruelly he turned away.
Merciless night saw her wane as she lay exposed to the storm.
Don’t talk to me about charity.  I know what it is.

I’d rather talk about beautiful things.
Morning came and found her dead.
They buried her outside the town in a forgotten grave.
Stop talking to me about charity.  Tell me where I failed?

Alas, no bells tolled her demise.
They left her to the numb unfeeling cold
And slowly turned back to town leaving her to the merciless sleet.
Ashamed he felt that he should pray. May she rest in peace.
You see, he knew what charity means.

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