At the edge of a quiet village lay
an old stone church left to decay.
No stained glass or pews left to remind
of Sabbath hymns and prayers divine.

Memories linger in the rising mist…

A lonely oak reaches out to the sky
through a steeple crumbled over years gone by.
Thorn and weed nearly obscure
moss covered stones where spirits lure.

Memories linger in the rising mist…

Engraved remembrance now faded and worn
mark the place where beloved wept and mourned.
It seems so lonely on this moonlit night
the sky so black; the stars so bright.

Memories linger in the rising mist…

Nearly 200 and fourscore years past
a soldier came home from war at last
to marry his cherished fiancée
At the alter where crumbled stones now lay

Memories linger in the rising mist…

Among those stones which weeds now hide
the soldier and bride lay side by side.

Memories linger in the rising mist…