The Seraph and the Cross

by | Jun 7, 2012 | Poetry | 0 comments

Though, now, no longer flesh and bone
a man was laid beneath rough stone.
What were his dreams and passions
we may, now, never know
Life changes with its seasons
the years must onward go.
Brown eyes once lit with laughter
his blood once stirred with pride
And O, he knew such sadness
those moments when he cried.
Within this soil of England
a true heart lies at rest
Through all Life’s trials and sorrows
he strived to do his best.
Loyal to his queen and country
his time on earth was done
Devoted son, and brother
much loved by everyone.
Where, as a child, he must have played
In Farlam Church, you’ll find his grave.
Did he, once, stand there in the rain
until his mother called his name
And wonder, who another was
beneath the seraph and the cross?
To turn away, to hurry home
his shadow leapt from stone to stone
Until he paused in a shaded spot
where a twig, or thorn, his jacket caught.
And as he drew his arm away
was that where he would rest one day?
He glanced upon the lush-green grass
and, then, that moment too would pass.
The gate was closed –a hurried tread
Autumnal-trees their colours shed…


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