Harvest home
1 October 2010 § 5 Comments
These days, I know as many names among
The churchyard stones as in the church. I knew
Their faces, voices, ways: when I was young
They were my world, and now there are so few
Familiar folk to shake hands at the door
Or catch up over coffee. So I sing
The well-loved harvest hymns, give thanks once more
And think on those now safely gathered in.
Gonecycling 
its a scary scenario. really scary one.
This is just a wonderful poem…as we grow older it does seem there are more outside than inside the church that we know…old friends become fewer as the years progress…you have once again written a briliant poem.
Thank you, my friend – your comments are always so encouraging and affirming.
Beautifully crafted again!
This is sadly an accurate portrayal of how, as we age, more and more of our loved ones pass through the veil – however, I like how you have linked this with harvest – a time for great rejoicing…yes, we should rejoice their lives and live ours in joy too. A wonderful poem. Chloe xx