Unloved Chapel

Nobody prays here now, she said
The altar candles are long dead
Nobody breaks the communal bread
And the music plays no more
Nobody hears the children cry
Nobody remembers quite why they died
Nobody cleans the brass with pride
And the wind whistles under the door
Nobody loves this place she said
As her lily white hands smoothed the hair on her head
The roof’s only left because there’s no lead
And the music plays no more
Nobody sees me or looks at my face
Nobody thinks that I died in disgrace
Nobody cares for the ghosts in this place
And the wind whistles under the door
There is no praise for the lord or the beast
Nobody remembers the men from the east
While the stones cry dry tears for want of a priest
And the music plays no more

©jj 2021