Esther McCallister

She sat in tattered skirts in mired streets of old.
Who her friend would ever be?
She sat with face pressed to the pane upon the window sill so cold.
Her fair face frozen fast to the pane.
...

Buttercups and Such

I am not a Lion, I so hate to roar.
I am a flower treat me not so sore.
...

Looking down into my love's cold and lifeless eyes.
His soul empty and indifferent dies.
Ran through with poison from the dead.
Silken indifference to love' s gracious sight.
...

A lovely child, full of grace and beauty thru and thru
Her mother's precious labor; her father's favored gift.
A radiant smile her face adorned.
Luxurious laughter from her soul came forth.
...

I went to Church today
Inside this hell I remained
Inside this prison so constrained
Inside these walls, even here, I don't belong
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Judas in my heart doth beat
Every thought and every deed deceit
Might God himself the very Christ wash my feet
Still It is in HIM that I must have a seat
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Please look not to me for aid
I too am made of clay
And thus like any slave must also have my debt repaid
My Sentence I can never bear
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See man's will, his way, his fruitless toils which doth assert the worm above the clay.
Further yet above his Makers nest
All his ways and works doth to this evil loudly attest
Worsens matters by his pretentious plot.
...

From the ashes of my life eyes flung open wide
There my Judas I espied.
He lay there sighing by my side.
Planting Kisses on my face.
...

Yours Forever he professed
No tears to stain your face.
No sadness shall you endure.
Your devoted heart never to forsake.
...