Standing in the old church <br />where the preacher <br />stood on Sundays <br />Still haunts me.. <br />I watched as leaves <br />danced across the floor <br />on the winter winds <br />and snow lay frozen <br />below open windows <br />as if it gently fell <br />into it's place... <br />the light shinning <br />through the wallls <br />seemed to be <br />impatiently wanting <br />to touch the darkness.. <br />creating shadows. <br />Her time is fading... <br />But i found Her Beauty <br />she could not hide it..<br /><br />Connetta Jean<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/abandoned-beauty/
