“Where do you think God is?”, he asked her laughingly,

As he moved to rest his chin on his folded arm on the couch.

She sighed and said, “You have until my nails dry for this talk.”

“I think God is the magic of all things that make them real”,

Her eyes trailed the imperfect painting of the ceiling as she answered.

“God is probably in the words that make an author feel light,

The same words that make a reader feel heavy with emotion.”,

She said as she moved her finger on the spine of the hardback.

“Probably in the knitting my grandma did to make me this”,

He says as he runs a hand over the soft cloth of his sweater.

“God definitely is a part of the sunflowers in a green grass field!”,

She said, springing up as if to emphasise her point, continuing,

“Oh! And in the oak trees of the dense foliage of the Amazon forests”

“What they say is true, isn’t it”, he joked, handing her a wine glass,

“You do find everything in the depths of the Amazonian Jungles”

“In all seriousness”, he droned, “God is probably having a ball in space,

Away from all the chaos when humans sprung into their creation,

What with guns in children’s satchels and blood on the pavement.”
She shuddered, standing to reach for the cheddar cheese on the counter,

“God is probably just a belief that keeps us hoping for a better tomorrow.”

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Note: The poem was supposed to use the highlighted words.