Old White Cross © Poem by Roann Mendriq

Beneath a tree, right down the lane,
from the days of my childhood;
An ancient Cross stood quietly plain,
Whitewashed, built of stone and wood.

As people passed, some paused to pray,
Eyes shut tight to see the light;
Then headed on their lonely way,
filled with power and prayer might.

At dusk, we prayed the Rosary,
By quiet light of candle glow,
We children prayed, how fervently!
When suddenly it began to pour...

As candles sputtered in the showers,
the tree bowed low to scatter flowers.