t was an old country church
White paint peelin’ bad
Sealed up tight as a drum
Makes me feel kinda sad
Quiet oh, just listen
The song of a meadowlark
Singing his lonesome song
And will till it’s pitch dark
Grass as brown as dust
Far as your eye can see
Don’t cut it any more
No animals to eat
A pond not far away
Still and shrinkin’ fast
Used to be a swimmin’ hole
But nothing ever lasts
But the old country church
Still has it’s share of charm
Once families came on Sunday
From the nearby country farms!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A lovely and very descriptive poem of this old country church Marilyn! *10*! ! Thank you for sharing! ! Best wishes - Friend Thad