Sandy and Sundays…

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On Sunday mornings
(weather permitting)
A middle-aged woman
called Sandy
walks the gravel road
to the old church..
she brings
a notebook
& a candle..
she believes
the old church walls
listens to her prayers.
She lights the candle
in faith…
Trusting it’s light
to lead the way
for loved ones past
( and Angels)
to find her..
the old walls seem
to welcome her prayers.
there are no people.
there  are no pews.
just Sandy
and a candle burning..
she writes prayers
and folds then neatly
hiding them in the walls
and  tiny cracks
in the wooden floors…
Knowing Angels
will find them
and take them to God…..

 © copyright  connetta

~ by connetta on March 10, 2014.

2 Responses to “Sandy and Sundays…”

  1. Your poems always lift me up, even when they speak of sad days; they are therapy, a little indulgence, every time I can. Even better than chocolate.

  2. I have always loved this one Connie.Glad to see you dusted it off…

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