The old village bell tower
 
copy. 12/10/10


Ebbing winds of windy March
Race strangely through the village parks
last year's withered brittle leaves
Bounce past the mottled benches green

Steady gusts of frequent breeze
sunny blue clouds now bleached and dark
skitter bout so pure and free
About the old faded belfry

the old church sits quiet still
Where steepled ceilinged pews once were filled
With brides and grooms like lovers' rhymes
Entwined neath mossy stones of time

Gales of March bustle bout
Where once bright roses
with maids of honor shout
From out their gay bright shrouds

the church bereft is like a tomb
Mid mournful winds that kiss the gloom
The old bell twould toll again
Its joyful peels of wedded swoon

Where clouds coalesce beneath the moon
Instead of dismal silent doom
Wishing not to wake the sleepers
Neath christened crescent moon

as if all of life conspired
To return them happy and tired
To never know they have expired
In deepest loves forever rest





By assisi

© 2014 assisi (All rights reserved)

 

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