Deep-rooted through time
This Norman arch,
Oak-like
Stands firm.

Over-arching
Buttresses and beams
Once wove wefts of
Warm reassurance.

Beneath oppressive clouds
Now a weary spire
Lifts a lone limp finger
Paying lip-service
To a memory.

Soiled latex
Sharp steel
Crushed aluminum
The offerings of straying pilgrims.

Illuminated lettering
The artful work of
New scribes:

God wos ere
lol


© Marcus Lane 2009

Standing alone in
dying light, to find darkness of
sun crying in bushes.

You were not me in
shipwreck. The sea wos rising,
Will call doorkeeper.

Truth was not the need.
Will collect messages of
sad, ravaged moon.