I walk past the iron gates
and then the old church comes into view
but it’s early so I sit on a bench
under a sky painted a Dali blue.
Flowers are on each side of the path of God:
a rainbow of colours waving in the breeze
and leaves swaying with gold
look magnificent on autumn trees.
I think about the congregation long ago
who wander this earth no more,
some buried in the churchyard
in times of peace and times of war.
Now I must step inside
this fine old church on a lovely day
and hope that in a century
people will still sing hymns and pray.
by Guy Fletcher