The Little Brown Church
You walk a road that is no more when at the end stands a little brown church.
by L. E. Evans
The pain is gone, the door droops with age and as you quietly walk in it seems to lurch.
The bell in the tower is long gone, inside a broken pew is still there.
On the wall an icon with the picture faded and gone with wear.
As you stand and listen, the silence of past years pervade.
People of long ago stood there with hopes and dreams now gone like a charade.
Quickly you leave as you sense some one in spirit still lingers there.
How long will the little brown church with no one to care,
forgotten by all be able to stand?
On this meagre plot of lonely land.