Those Who've Gone

Today is Sunday.

The sky dresses a pastel pink.

Not yet the time for any steeple.

The town is still wet and

Cold and undisturbed by

Any noise of people.

Where are they?

One time they walked

And talked of church

And smelled the air.

They were there.

The known and the unknown.

Where are they?

Today is Sunday.

Early in the mourning...