Lady of the Chapel

She sits alone at the chapel gates

guarding her meagre space

paper blankets line the steps

to the gates of redemption

Righteous feet pass her by

busy people nine to five wearing Sunday faces

Every morning it’s the same

she wipes the dew from weathered hands

brushes down layers of cloth

soiled by many seasons 

Beneath the rags that cover her soul

she takes the treasure that she holds

and lays it down for all to see

Busy people nine to five

righteous feet that passed her by

pause a moment to be in her time 

Now envious eyes line the steps

waiting just to see

the summer in her eyes

when she played her mandolin.

Her body frail and senses slow

she said she still had a long way to go

Many stories yet to tell my little one

I was wrapped in the spell as I sat in her hell

The one she didn’t notice

Alley cats were having a spat

I wondered what she’d make of that 

I had two in my time she said

one was dark; one was light  

I asked her who had won the fight

She replied through wistful eyes

The one I fed the most

And then one day she wasn’t there

I waited by the chapel stairs for hours

Busy people nine to five

righteous feet passing by

turn to look at her meagre space

Now it’s filled by another face

I missed our time her gentle ways

I didn’t understand all she’d said

until my day of choices came

and it was understood

It’s been a while since she’s been gone

but every now and then it’s told  

Busy people nine to five

righteous feet passing by

pause a moment in their time

and it’s been said you can see

The summer in their eyes

when they hear her mandolin

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