The Walk of Fame

Jesus had come 
A sheep, His dog, and one friend
Pulling His cart, Hand on His goods
Owned nothing like was said He would
Returned a pauper
Not as a king
The gold crown
To Him meant not a thing
He pawned it
At the local store
Passed out bibles
To the lost and poor
Gazed at His star
On the walk of fame
The Mark was here
But there was no name
He was pleased it had turned out this way
Again on Calvary He would not have to pay
Copyright © | Year Posted 2012

Poem

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