Posted in Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Little Stone Church

By Scott Bailey © 2015


Little stone church
Nestled on a hill
Over looking the sea
Watching over the harbour still

The boats nestled cheek to cheek
And those tossed on the waves
The bell rings out a guiding peal
Above the moss stained graves

And every sailor on the deck
Mouths a silent prayer
The church windows watch their pleas
With a cold and empty stare

The settlement around the church
Huddles to the old stone walls
Strong but cold strange comfort their
As the tolling calls

Older still the hill
Watches the fleeting boats
The flighty homes and towers
Their occupants dust motes

More enduring still
The constant shifting waves
Will eat the hill, huts the boats
Even the very graves


Scott Bailey is a freelance writer, author and blogger. His works include the dystopian novel “Mankind Limited” and “A Spring of Dreams” collection of poetry. His blogging ranges across family articles, poetry and short stories and even the odd book or movie review.

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