Flowers in the Church



All alone in the midst of days,
The ground is cold on which you lay.

Under ragged sheets you sleep,
In the church, your heart so deep.

In the old abandoned church,
Where bugs now creep and spiders lurch.

There you lay in hopes not to cry,
Until your soul away must fly.

Soon the heavens will hear your plea,
And God will whisper "Come to me..."

You look up and smile for all the best,
At last, indeed, your soul can rest.

And where you lay the flowers grew,
It is God's gift in memory to you.

You look to where you once lay down,
And find the flowers all around.

You smile and whisper "It's time to go",
To heaven where more flowers will grow.