I am sitting in a church porch 

Waiting for the service to finish 

It is not that I have abandoned my beliefs 

I was just late in my arrival 

The grey flagstones in front of me 

Have been worn smooth with age 

And are pleasant to look at and gently touch 

Beyond the porch I can see the neat gravestones 

Arranged in ordered avenues of total peace 

The bleached blonde grasses are now almost hidden 

By the towering trees first planted during

The now neglected restoration years

These are the long dry summer days so beloved 

Everything seems to be at peace 

And the muffled interior hymns 

Float within the stillness of the morning air without fading