by Shey Cannon

Created on: June 06, 2008   Last Updated: June 26, 2008

CHAPEL OF THE WOLDS

Quaint empty chapel sitting there all alone
Amidst mighty fern trees and a graveyard overgrown
Dusty hall with stained windows of fractured glass
Lonely as the tawny owl who sweeps o'er this windswept pass

Rickety fence of wires to hold you in its jail
A flock of rooks sit staring from a broken wooden rail
Little animals scurry beneath winter flowers that crane

Down upon weed covered gravestones glazed with winter rain

Deserted in the Yorkshire wolds where nobody comes to see
Shivering in wet shadows from many a mighty tree
Once, i called out...the echoes swam. Some murmer answered back
Candle wax scattered the floor, where Christ hung sad above
the bibles on their rack

I sit in silence by your side in a dusty pew
Fading evening light dims the leaves piled around the window view
Suddenly, a candle lights, the flame warm, hushing away the dark
Shadows tremble with ambient mood. The moon wanes in her sleepy arc

The crescent horned allure of this cold November night
Christens the countryside with dappling, crisp winter light
I looked out onto the graveyard with all those histories now lost
And saw the stone carved Angels with coats of sculptured frost

Here i sit inside this chapel that stands as empty as can be
Waiting for somebody to visit you and me
Two hundred years have passed and they have all but forgotten our name
But, that is the nature of the universe and no-one is to blame

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