The Old Woman

The church was empty

Except for a little old woman

Who sat in the front pew.

Her back was hunched over

With age

And she kept

Her trembling hands

Folded under her chin

While her lips moved

Quickly

In prayer.

Her white bonnet

Was tattered

And stained.

Her shawl

Was worn thin.

 

I took a seat

At the back of the church

Watching her

Out of the corner

Of my eye.

She sat

For a long time,

Never stirring

Never ceasing

Her whispering.

I hadn’t been able

To hear it before

But now I could hear

Her low voice

Moving all round the church

Like a soft wind.

I wondered what she was saying.

 

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