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The door stood open and, not knowing why,
I left the clamour of the city street
And slipped inside. Cool silence came to greet
Me like a balm, as though it would defy
The strident background of the passers-by
And show that centuries of prayer defeat
The constant onslaught of man's noise. Discreet
Beside the prayer-books one could buy
A simple candle. Gratefully I paid
The sum required and left a dancing flame
Deep in a corner where the shadows played;
In fancy I inscribed it with my name.
A small acknowledgement from one who strayed
In off the street, to greet the next who came.
Mary Spain
| Submitted Date |
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Friday, March 25, 2011 |
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Poets
