The Old Church
The old church stands alone with visitors all gone
Only sparrows and field mice still hearing it's song
The pews and the altar now rotting away
Prayers echo from walls every hot summer day.
The white paint is peeling and windows are broken
It's been a few decades since someone has spoken
The church door hangs open, inviting you in
Awaiting a prayer to be heard once again.
By Isabella Grajczyk