The Country Verger
by Raymond Holt
The pansies never smiled today
The daffodils grew shorter,
As if they knew she wouldn’t be round
To change their dirty water.
The harvest mouse who lived for years
Inside the threadbare hassock,
Fell fast asleep, curled like a ball
Inside her scented cassock.
The ladybird who on the pew
Flew home each day she dusted,
Just cried for hours in to the font
A friendship, oh so trusted.
On stormy crowblack winter nights
She visited the dying,
With flowers and prayer book in her hand
Her kindness undenying.
She liked communion on a Sunday
The holy bread and wine,
She gave her soul to heal the sick
But never counted time.
The church it seems is empty now
Although her presence near,
But God will always take good care
Of those he holds most dear.
LOOKING OVER MY SHOULDER
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