The hollow pews

I walked past sunlight through the glass,

dust motes floating where prayers once passed.

Boards cover stained glass stories told,

quiet now, the church is cold.

No voices rise, no hymn repeats,

just silence pressing in the seats.

Empty pews hold absent grace,

a hollow shell, a forgotten place.

Bells ring distant, hollow, slow,

a ghostly call from long ago.

The doors stay shut, the silence speaks,

a church abandoned, church that leaks.