Chapel In The Vale Poem by Joseph T. Renaldi

There is a pleasant aroma winging,
Colorful birds are singing,
and the robust bees are buzzing all day.
My companion and I walk slowly together
in the humidity of the hot weather
to the chapel in the vale where we used to pray.

There lie the remains of childhood wishes,
and the tantalizing wind now swishes
at the tattered door the years have left to decay.
All the oak benches now lie broken-
Neither of us has spoken-
in the chapel in the vale where we used to pray.

Our thoughts would be much higher,
and the day would still be brighter
to hear the clergyman preach the old, stern way,
but his eager words of atonement are halted,
and the silence is now exalted
in the chapel in the vale where we used to pray.