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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
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Friday, March 25, 2011 |
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