The Church Near Waters Edge

The tears of women, men and children’s death. It’s small and cozy pews, there’s no one left — The church near water’s edge sighs Spirit’s breath. Up comes the dawn, of heaven secureth. The resurrected saints no more bereft; The tears of women, men and children’s death. The bride does brightly shine with gentle-strength. It’s quaint, alone, but filled with trousseau’s heft — The church near water’s edge sighs Spirit’s breath. This collared man does dunk heads underneath. The ebb and flowing robes in the Lord’s cleft. The tears of women, men and children’s death. With illumined faces and free from wrath, They splash out of the sea and no one’s left. The church near water’s edge sighs Spirit’s breath. The Pastor’s pay not much but with great depth, For one by one regains the devil’s theft. The tears of women, men and children’s death. The church near water’s edge sighs Spirit’s breath. 1/22/2020 Your Best 2019-2020 Villanelle Poetry Contest Sponsor: William Kekaula