The Church Welcomes Everyone Poem by Phil Soar

The church was nestled in a place where anyone would want to lie
No matter if the end had come, a place to sit, a place to die
A place to rest a little while, when prayers had all been said
A calm and pleasant place to be, a place to rest your head

The tombs and headstones set in lines, all uniform in rows
Where you can book a resting place, among the high hedgerows
And all that will be with you, will be those who lay beside
And those who come to visit you, will leave once they have cried

Leaving flowers and thoughts and words, so hard for them to say
Even though it may be years, since you have passed this way
The church that welcomes everyone, and turns no-one away
Has nothing but a welcome mat for those who've gone astray