The world goes by. Inside
The clocks are stopped.
A passing cyclist in the dappled park
Cannot sense the sadness within.
Along the altar, lights are lit
For all the lights too soon extinguished.
A baby’s voice echoes from a laden pew
As silent cries echo in these leaden hearts.
A hymn, a muted sob, a prayer
Rise to the high walls, where
The sinking sun casts spring leaves’
Lively and playful shadows.