The Little Church Poem by cheryl davis miller

He walked towards town from the highway
at the corner set his backpack down.
He searched up and down there on Main Street
with a sad heart here is what he found.
An empty lot garbage and weeds;
a sign welcoming people to town.
The place he'd sought help so many times
was demolished; completely torn down.

He ambled across Mulberry Street
slowly entered the Police Station.
Most times he tried to avoid that place
but he needed some information.
'Where ever did that 'little church' go?
It once sat in the center of town
I use to go there and they'd feed me.
T'was the only 'soup kitchen' around.'
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A van pulled off of highway thirty-three.
Driving by where the church had once been.
The driver spoke to the store owner,
Excuse me can you help me my friend?
Tell me where did that 'little church' go
it use to be down on East Main Street.
I had five babies and they helped me,
that small congregation was so sweet.

That ' little church' tho small and shabby
was filled up with God's sweet love and light.
It prayed for and covered this city
with the wing's of God's angels in flight.
A place for those tired and weary
those in dire need of a helping hand.
The world needs a thousand such churches
to just spring up and cover our land.

Where did that 'little church' go?

c.d.m.5-17-11