Church

If I take a route down the hill

On a good day

In spring,

There's a church I pass by.

And the garden I pass through

Makes the journey nice,

When the trees turn pink and flower shamelessly

And the sun shines the same,

On those sunken stones and stained glass

Of the church,

And the ominous black birds leap around

In the petals

And their black plumes dance among the pinks, even though they don't belong,

In such a place.

Their formal dress adds

To the splendour,

You can't have

Sunshine

Without the dark.

And the Church basks in light

While the funeral party lingers

Among the ceremonial stones,

Before going into the shade

Of that temple

And what can I do

But remember,

Those black birds

In the sun.

Hope you enjoyed! This was written a while back, almost two years ago, on my way home from college.