HIS MATINS.

A MONK AND MATINS AND MEMORIES

The monk runs
his thin finger
down the spine
of the black book.

Dom Peter turns
the large key
in the old lock.

She would
have let me-
had I wished to-
run a finger
down her spine.

The sanctuary lamp
flickers in the church;
a lone light
in the ebony darkness.

Reviews

[Alfred Kukitz]

Wow very cool.....................

[Kelly Scheppers]

Profoundly you write, seeking the soul of a reader it can call home. I love this!

[Terry Collett]

Thank you, Kelly.

[Kelly Scheppers]

My pleasure!