HER VOICE FELL SOFT
The punctual servant of the skies
stained fiery red the night time sky
as ancient yews in tarnished green
stood stark as sullen sentinels
beside the twisting stony path
which conjured from the furthest reach
and travelled to the honeyed door.
And as the bells peeled out their chime
her voice fell soft like April rain
with words that breathed of heavenly love
and drank in scenes of long ago,
an antique song so sweetly sung.