Meeting For Worship Poem by Bill Grace

The night time ritual is this:
After story and the Bible story
Only the hall light burns
And in a relative darkness we dwell
This seven year touch of life that is our daughter
She supine in my Mother's old bed
I sitting on the white toy chest.
She often asks that I remain a while
And almost always I comly
And after shenanigans a silence comes
In which I wonder about God
Or perhaps even the ways of politicians.
It is our silent meeting for worship.
Almost always it is holy
Despite the missing facing bench.