Poems ✍️

In this place of silence and gloom,
sits an intruder on a mossy tomb
He is a very small bird with a colourful breast,
and the crumbling graves, are his place of rest.
How can he find food in a place so empty,
yet he looks as if he has been fed, plenty.
The winds of God blow seed around,
for this intruder to feed off the ground.
He feels protected in this lonely place.
Where he can bob around at his own pace.
Summer and winter, all the year through.
This little intruder has a birds eye view,
when his perched on a branch of the
hanging Yew.
He has become a mourner in his own right,
because when there's a funeral, he's there on site.
He sings a melody, one that can be heard,
to let the mourners know this is
God's everlasting word.