Empty Church
The day the earth stood still,
bells suspended in the tower,
chimes froze in vacant space,
nullified the hour.
Her veil like spider web,
stiff with Winter frost,
hung upon the mannequin head,
poignant and lost.
His buttonhole carnation,
a bullet wound lapel,
blood red with cautious dying,
in the dresser fell.
And all the best laid plans
unravel seam by seam,
faint echoes in an empty church,
never more to dream.
Copyright © Tony Bush | Year Posted 2005
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