Ospringe Churchyard - Poem by James Tipp
This Godly place lies waiting for the traveller
Beckons through the covered canopy of Yew
Twin paths around flint walls speak of yesterday.
Stone obelisk worn with age, etched in bygone days
Washed by the winter rain burned by summer sun
Fade into lifeless pillars of forgotten memories.
This English churchyard surrounded by summer wheat
Remains a secluded place of refuge for today.
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