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Poem

Inside a temple Jean sits quietly,
clothed in radiant white from head to feet,
soft pale hands and a Bible on one knee;
a smile she beams on each who take a seat.
Within the room is finest polished wood;
all is clean, and the walls reflect the light
of purity, which sought, is understood,
for here abide the honest and contrite,
and peace resides to blot the worldly strife
they’ve left outside; sweet solace eases pain.
Each soul here can reflect upon his life,
for godliness and solemness do reign.
It’s in the temple I envision her
once the Spirit does her heart bestir.

Note: Jean is my mother's name.She is a very
spiritual person who enjoys the peace of the temples.

March 4, 2015
For the Pick a Subject Contest of Shadow Hamilton

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