mossy Mary stands in the churchyard
seemingly having seen eons go by
an ancient watcher, still and silent
can’t you see searching in her eye?
but what truths find light in old churchyards
what story can a pack of absences tell?
— the cold, quiet of a forsaken church
a dumb bell, and a graveyard smell
By B Gourley in poem, Poetry on June 3, 2018.
