Chosen pew
I too
grew between the pew
Wood, cushioned, splintered, soft
I knew them all
It was the start
Of a life in art
The bulletin becoming
My first canvas
I love the pew
The many I sat
Beside, behind, upon
Those who nudged me
They who held me
Knelt beside me
I shall see them all
When around the
Fathers pew we are
One day called.
No comments:
Post a Comment