The lychgate stands alone,
Wooden beams stretch
toward the sky,
Silent witness
to countless passings,
Once a haven for grieving hearts,
Now, memories linger
in the weathered planks,
Hoping for the days
of comfort to return.
.
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Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 18th, 2026 05:12
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 5
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments3
This is so deep.I like the old wooden gate as a metaphor.So many people passed by seeking comfort.A great poem amigo
Were - or are - lychgates places where they rest coffins on the way in and out of church? Good write A.
What is a gate but a doorway a passageway an entrance now alone and silent once a witness to so many passings once not now but memories linger in hope for return. A great poem leaving such feeling Cryptic. Very nicely done and haunting it merits a fave
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