White washed walls gleam with
stained hues frothing freely
vividly infused with Gods breath,
beating once, twice, until a gasp of
relief falls violently out of the
knots in the cherry stained oak
pews lying supplicant with the awakening
of the church accompanying morning service.
When she asks about me
tell her that I still care,
please tell her that I moved on
that I never meant to let her go.
But tell her I that I became a teacher
who finally learned
but, don’t tell her that I miss her
as those words are too much for me,
if she is happy now
that’s all I’ll ever need.