Tip-toeing round the foreign church
I take a timid photograph
And wander up the aisles in search
Of interesting epitaphs.

I gaze about the gold and brass
Statues of angels, Christ and kings
And look around chromatic glass
To see what sentiments it brings.

At the side of the church, a board
Commemorates its martyred men,
With photographs and sacred swords.
I could almost insist “amen”

Before returning to the street
And the unwinding afternoon,
Where idle shoppers rest their feet
And above blue skies lurks the moon.

This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s