THE CHURCH IN THE WILDWOOD

There's a Church where my Mother used to go
small but lovely to see
With flowers growing by the stairs
and embraced by colorful trees

She told of young people being immersed
in the creek that runs nearby
a baptism rite of simple folks
under the preacher's watchful eye

There were Sunday picnics and Christmas plays
and a Children's Day each year
There were ice cream socials and Easter egg hunts
so many memories made here

Everyone in the town came to Church
from the wealthy to the poor
and Mama met her true love there
when her yellow dress she wore

This dress had ruffles on the sleeves
and her hair was done in curls
Everyone in town would speak of how
she was the prettiest of all the girls.



She was married in this little Church
in a beautiful gown of lace
with her curls piled high upon her head
and perfectly radiant face


She's gone now but memories linger on
of the stories she would share
of how God's love was never-ending
and how she could feel it there

The little Church still beckons
and the creek still flows through town
My Mother rests beyond the trees
within this hallowed ground

It seems so right that she is there
For the years that she had spent
within these walls--God's own house
Her soul is now content

All Rights Reserved-Poetry, Kacey