Veiled in white mist the bells and chimes,
Rang out their ancient hymns and rhymes.
Tling, ling, ling, ling...

Their booming mouths, echoed and trilled,
A thundering symphony over a statue tall.
With crashing chords the air was filled,
As a saint lovingly reached out to all.

A pauper lady with treasures from a dump,
Pushed an old and wobbly cart,
Wearily she propelled it over a bump.
Pealing bells built a cathedral of sound,
As she prayed that the fog would part
and that a smooth path could be found.

From the shadows a boy jumped out,
and kicked the cart and made a dent.
Arms akimbo he began to shout,
'Beggar Lady, you live in a tent!

They say you you have a ragbag heart
Hidden away in your rattletrap cart.'
She made no answer as he twirled and pranced,

But something sparkly and wet
Made its way to her thin and ragged chest.
Jeering and laughing he danced
away. She lifted her face 'till her eyes met

The saint's, then slowly she
melted into the mist.

Veiled in white fog the bells and chimes
Rang out their ancient hymns and rhymes,
Tling, ling, ling, ling...

by Mary Naylor

Comments (2)

Lyrical nuances … Attractive dramatic nature … Thanks …
This poem is a treasure, Mary. Very beautiful and heartfelt. Warm regards, Sandra