a poem by Richard Gildea, UK - poetry writer, author, poet

The Campanile rings out in repetitive refrain
As flowers bloom in solitude, through plots of measured earth;
I approach with clouded thought to catch a glimpse of words cut deep

A shadow covered carapace which sits atop the soil
No mention on the mortar etched, of love that will not die
Neither evidence nor image shown, within the story told

Of hair that caught the Autumn sun and danced away the gloom
Of countenance so bright that darkness dare not be so bold
Of eyes that reached inside my soul, with sense of faith renewed

How could they not announce with joy an Angel in their midst
Who comes to lift their spirits high and calm the cares of those who doubt
Follow her where she may lead, a welcome waits for those who do

The Campanile falls silent, as the shadows reach my heart
Evening holds my mind enthral, with memory of warm embrace
As blooms subside and bow their heads in the sadness of the soil


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