Veiled in white mist the bells and chimes, <br />Rang out their ancient hymns and rhymes. <br />BONG, BONG, BONG, BONG, <br />Tling, ling, ling, ling... <br /> <br />Their booming mouths, echoed and trilled, <br />A thundering symphony over a statue tall. <br />With crashing chords the air was filled, <br />As a saint lovingly reached out to all. <br /> <br />A pauper lady with treasures from a dump, <br />Pushed an old and wobbly cart, <br />Wearily she propelled it over a bump. <br />Pealing bells built a cathedral of sound, <br />As she prayed that the fog would part <br />and that a smooth path could be found. <br /> <br />From the shadows a boy jumped out, <br />and kicked the cart and made a dent. <br />Arms akimbo he began to shout, <br />'Beggar Lady, you live in a tent! <br /> <br /> <br />They say you you have a ragbag heart <br />Hidden away in your rattletrap cart.' <br />She made no answer as he twirled and pranced, <br /> <br />But something sparkly and wet <br />Made its way to her thin and ragged chest. <br />Jeering and laughing he danced <br />away. She lifted her face 'till her eyes met <br /> <br />The saint's, then slowly she <br />melted into the mist. <br /> <br />Veiled in white fog the bells and chimes <br />Rang out their ancient hymns and rhymes, <br />BONG, BONG, BONG, BONG, <br />Tling, ling, ling, ling...<br /><br />Mary Naylor<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/crescendo/
