Ghost Town Steeple

by

There stands the old gray steeple

Watching over the sleeping people

Above the lustrous rustling trees

With their golden flowing leaves

To where now have they gone

All those ancient sleeping people

Is it they whose sound of sighing

Piqued my mind to asking why

Neath these golden swaying boughs

Shaking their sunny amber gowns

Like ancient wedding bell vows

Is it their wistful silence heard

In burbling brook and warbling bird

Is it they with such haunting ease

Swinging to and fro the rusty gate

In the dry wind churchyard breeze

Kicking up dust in the empty street

Rolling along a lonely tumble weed

Do they moan about the rusty eves

Edifying me to a state of peace

Making knowledge a base cursed thing

For what can there me more than this?

The rested mind gratefully perceives

This place better than the rest

This place that is blessed the best

And I feel no aching clamoring need

The pulpit that thundered Hell to see

For I will not think of Hell today

Spoiling the perfection God has made

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Free Your Muse
by: John William McGrath III
from: Mesa, AZ, US

To write us about this page,
contact willy@dreamagic.com (Willy Chaplin)