From the Yew Trees to the Pews

From the yew trees to the pews
You were built for gin and sing-song,
A dictionary censored,
A library of morals,

Your thinning hair
Is part of God’s plans,
A head filled with shortbread
And flowery patterns,

Fossils labelled as rocks,
Sandwiches without crusts,
Needlepoint praising the Lord’s work,
Consensual tutting.

This could all be sweet nothings,
But it makes you feel something
Like a hot cup of tea
Or a nice bedtime story,

A nice bedtime story,
A sweet church bell ringing,
A tear in the vicar’s eye,
A reason for being.


2 Responses to “From the Yew Trees to the Pews”

  1. obsoleteness
    is definition of likes
    our being
    and left behind

    and then a poet comes
    and our being and obsoleteness
    start looking separate
    and poet leaves
    a blur line

    take care

    its jus 2 compliment this poem of yours…

  2. Very nice. I love the opening rhyme.

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