The church stands resolute shutters closed tight

The church stands resolute, shutters closed tight,

a ‘For Sale’ sign, like a whispered prayer,

remnants of solace beneath faded paint,

yellowing pages in an old hymnbook,

where time lost its way,

sacred moments now linger in memory's dust.

Once, I sought refuge beneath that cracked bell,

song rising and falling, a breath of the sacred,

yet here I am, a wanderer past weathered stones,

retreating from faith like autumn leaves,

its absence echoes louder in this cavernous silence,

reminding me of the warmth of old songs.