Sunday morning somewhere

Sunday morning

Quiet as a shut church

Closed for lack of parishioners

And the padre hangs

From the bell tower.

I will go outside and holler

Open up the church

You sinners, it is after eight

Wake up your dogs

Let them bark at nothing

To create a sound

That doesn’t drip of stillness

Bur brings life, a promise

That you are not chained

Forever, there will be a day

Of freedom and the laughter

Of a child once more heard.



◄ lone ranger

let Iran live ►


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