The Silent Chorus
The air is still with wonder,
that gasping will of childhood thrall,
That gazes unwavering,
with no deterrent passion or jaded knell.
The silent chorus rings out,
off the marble steps and baptismal font,
from the pews,
splayed out in angles fit for prayer.
From each sainted space,
where the sun falls through stained glass,
There comes the sound,
Of tribute and of wonder.
Though no other soul is present,
and no lips are poised to sing,
The eyes capture each moment,
And in the minds of youth kindle melody.




LinkBack URL
About LinkBacks
Reply With Quote




