The Old Stone Church

Within a copse of bristled pines,

Sleeping 'neath blankets of white,

An echo of another time,

Fell within my wandering sight.

Though drear against the landscape bleak,

The grey of stone, and gothic spire,

Of times long passed, I hear them speak,

And cannot help, but to admire.

Reviews

[Wicahpi]

Nicely done. Thank you for your entry
into Picture Poem This (12)

[Joanna Maharis]

You have a beautiful gift for painting beautiful pictures with words. I like the way this piece tells a beautiful story. There is also a feeling of mysteriousness about the story found within this poem.