A Spire
I take for granted the company of those people,
The truth that reveals itself in the moments we share,
Familiar and sturdy as a hometown steeple,
Intimately connected like a careful prayer.
But we’re told to look up to the sky.
It’s what we’re meant to do.
The steeple thins and reaches high
To places we don’t have a clue.
Copyright © Annabelle Bentley | Year Posted 2024
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