The church glowed russet in the harkening light of dawn,
The stone walls, verses of amber as the slanting sun rays spilled through the hawthorn
The decrepit door, once honey brown
The flaking paint now shades of taupe, in the high August noon they drench and drown
Beckoning light in, in splashes of a kaleidoscope from stained glass windows
The old church is the sanity of these hills, surrounded by fragrant cedars and junipers
It has greeted blazing summers, blustery breeze
Now it sings with the wind and embraces the sunshine, listening to the rhythm of quenching rain.
The church nesting on a knoll of wildflowers and dunes of grass
Conjures a fond dream on a velvety green moss
As the sunrise hums to the fading stars,
The spires and steeples glow silver at the tops.
The bells oh so huge rolled the pealing Through the vales and hamlet for every death or wedding
Through summer and spring the church spire reached into clouds or a quilt of cyan blue
Unbroken gossamer webs now veil the cracked benches and pews
The high domes have heard choirs and prayers
Seasons of laments, pleas and bridesmaids giggles
The storms swirl around but it still stands tall
The echoes of footsteps can be heard on grey wintry days and golden fall.
©️ Sangeetha Kamath
Pic Courtesy:Image by Pete Linforth from Pixabay
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