A Church You Stopped Attending

The cracked stone steps lie beneath a thick dust,

like memories clinging to the backs of my eyes.

I pause at the entrance, a door left unjust,

a threshold I crossed, now fading in sighs.

Old hymns linger soft in the air, they float,

reminders of faith, of community lost.

Once a haven of hope, now a tattered coat,

bound by the choices and bridges I crossed.

I hear the faint echoes of laughter and prayer,

a chorus of voices I swore I still knew.

But I stand in the silence, a ghost in the glare,

searching for solace in shadows I grew.